


Aftershocks

by Macx



Series: The Post War Arc [1]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-04
Updated: 2011-06-04
Packaged: 2017-10-20 03:22:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quarter of Cybertron is completely destroyed, the rest lies devastated and shocked. Many have lost their lives in the final battle and many more wish they were dead. Struggling to survive, the Cybertronians are haunted by the events they can't forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftershocks

  
He watched.

The space around Cybertron was filled with laser fire, debris and the exhaust trails of fighters. The planet as such was partly on fire, most of the enemy blasts centering around South Port. And then the surface seemed to ripple.

Ah, yes....

The metal bent and flowed, twisting, as if Cybertron was a massive life form. Cracks appeared and out of the cracks, light streamed. It was brilliant, it was blinding and it was deadly to whatever it encountered and classified as an enemy. Lances of light shot out into the night of space, cutting through enemy ships, homing in on the two battle fortresses. The first fortress shuddered under the impacts and then started to break apart. Lightning bolts of white, blue and green color danced over the stricken metal, bending it further, twisting it out of proportion.   
Screams echoed in the silence of the destruction; screams of the dying Tji. And more light poured out of the cracks, widening them, washing over Cybertron, cleansing it of Tji. But not only the enemy suffered. The planet was unable to take the pounding, trembling under the immense pressure trying to get out into the open. Then the whole of the South continent burst outward, like magma out of a volcano, ripping a deep wound into the old planet.   
Ralyk broke free.

He looked at it like someone else would at an interesting new specimen. He had never seen it whole, never as a grown being, never in its pure form.   
Beautiful and deadly.   
What a shame.

Ralyk looked very much like a Tji, but somehow more beautiful, more serene, but still deadly. Its luminous body rose from Cybertron and aimed directly at the attack fleet. Tji battle ships turned and fled, but they had no chance. Tentacles shot out, touching them, barely even coming in contact, but they exploded nevertheless, destroying the body shell and the Tji inside -- utterly.

Gentle and temperamental.

Ralyk's body swallowed the battle fortress that had once been known as Scorponok, enveloping it, squeezing it together. An explosion tore through the bright cloud, shredding it, and a second one followed as the fortress went up.   
Space was lit by a light brighter than a sun, then blackness fell again.

A true shame. He sighed, then lifted one hand and the swiped the image away.   
"It killed itself?" someone asked.   
He turned and looked at his companion. "Yes, apparently it did."   
"But.... but...," the other protested. "It upsets the balance of things!"   
He smiled slightly. "No. Ralyk would never risk the balance. It made sure the balance is kept."   
"It reproduced?"   
A new image popped up.

A small cloud of energy similar to Ralyk hovered over a robot body. It whispered in its own language, caressing the female robot.

"I see. What now?"   
He shrugged, and let the image disappear again. "The play has not ended yet."   
"But the enemy has been destroyed!"   
"Oh, yes, Ath'antheia died for his foolishness of underestimating what he faced." He smiled humorlessly. "He never knew what evolution could do. He never believed in the instinct of survival. I do. I know those robots have a strong instinct and will to survive." Another smile. "I have to."   
His companion nodded thoughtfully. "Do you think Ralyk told them about it all?"   
"No, it wouldn't. It can't. The balance is at stake. And, for all its powers, it is only a Protector." He looked at a table standing in the room. It was large, looking like a chess board of alien origin. Small pawns were all over the surface. He took one and sadly shook his head. "Foolish, foolish Ath'antheia. I told him to wait, but he never listened."   
With that he turned and walked out of the room.

* * *

He was aware.   
He existed.   
He knew he existed. He just wasn't sure where he was, what exactly had happened and what would happen in the future. Memories leaked into his confusion, memories of death and destruction, of fire and energy explosions.   
Whispers.   
He frowned as he heard the whispers. He wasn't alone. Someone ... several someones were with him. There were no individual voices, just many whispers, presences, awareness on a very low level.   
More memories leaked.   
His names was ..... Alpha Trion. Yes, he remembered. He remembered a lot all of a sudden, starting from his past and stopping at the last events he had experienced.   
Ralyk was dead.   
Vector Sigma had been destroyed.   
Knowledge was lost, lives had been destroyed, chaos reigned. And in the middle of this chaos was he. He and countless personality cubes which had been stored inside him, which had been Vector Sigma's protégés. Now he was their guardian.   
But it would not be forever.   
Alpha Trion knew it with such a cold certainty that it frightened him. His current situation was clear to him. He was nothing but an ectoplasmic body wrapped around the personality cubes, trying to shield them, trying to insure their survival, but it would not last. He wasn't experienced in this and his cohesiveness was threatened. His body could only sustain so much pressure and might give way soon.   
He needed help.   
But how? He couldn't go and contact someone. Moving meant danger for the cubes. He also had no means of communication like Ralyk had had. The links were not available to him.   
Alpha Trion felt a surge of fear.   
What could he do?

* * *

"Pump failure!"   
The cry echoed through the room, bouncing off dull gray walls and ricocheting back to audio sensors in range. Frantic action was suddenly undertaken. Portable instruments were shoved out of the way to give the helpers access, assistants handed tools and started energon feeds. Hook was unaware of the general pandemonium all around him. He didn't care if the world would   
cease to exist this very moment. For him there was only his patient, and this patient was an important one. All life was important, he knew, whoever lay on the operation table, but he knew if he failed here, chaos would ensue them.   
"Clean out the feeders and give me a blocking chips!" he demanded.   
Someone complied, though he had no idea who it was, probably one of his team, most of them Constructicons. A blocking chips started to reroute flash energy into a back-up unit and he dared to hope that he was actually accomplishing something.   
"Pump status!" he asked sharply.   
"Still fluctuating."   
Hook reconnected two circuits and a shrill beep could be heard.   
"Fuel pump arrest!" Scavenger announced, voice a bit too high.   
"Jump start it, damnit!"   
More activity started.   
"We got him back," Mixmaster finally breathed.   
"That was the second time!" Scavenger muttered. "He can't take any more of this."   
"He has to," Hook growled, diving deep into the open chest cavity, trying to clean out all the dirt and fluids in there. He removed some lodged-in shards of metal, probably from the beam that had struck, and dumped them in a small tray that was already filled with various debris.   
The other Constructicons exchanged looks. Their patient had survived many difficult injuries before, had even come back from the dead -- well, in a way -- but this was really serious. Megatron had been brought in a standard hour ago, along with several other patients, some equally badly injured. He had been almost dead, his energon levels nearly non-existent, his systems shut down and close to terminal lock-up. The left side of his upper body looked like someone had slashed it open and then left the beam stuck inside, his leg equally mutilated and torn. When they had hooked him up to the monitors they hadn't received any signals right away and when something had come through, it had been nightmarishly low. Megatron was close to fading any second and he had had a total shut-down twice now. No one was sure how much he could take, but it was clear that he'd be beyond help soon if a miracle didn't happen.   
And then there was the synthoid material fused into his molecular structure. It had happened decades ago, when Diana MacKenzie, trying to kill Galvatron, had accidentally transformed the insane Decepticon leader into his old self Megatron again. Megatron had returned and he had ruled the Decepticons again, but his body shell was no longer like it had been before. MacKenzie had attempted to transfer his mind and energy into a synthoid blob, then melt down the shell, but the whole thing had backfired and the synthoid material had been shot back into the body shell, recreating everything. In the end, after a complicated transformation not even the Constructicons could recreate or explain completely. The foreign molecules had never bothered him or shown a negative effect and over the time it had been forgotten -- or at least shoved back into the mind.   
Now it might be a problem.   
Sparks sat on one of the file cabinets, her emerald optics fixed on the motionless figure, body rigid. She had arrived with him and she was not intent to leave without him. She knew there was nothing she, personally, could do, that Megatron had to fight this battle alone, but she was still here. No one dared to throw her out.   
"We have a fluctuation in the back-up unit!"   
Hook cursed violently but no one so much as winced. Everyone working here felt the same.   
There was too much damage.   
Just too much!   
Maybe if his energon levels were okay .... then the injuries wouldn't tip the scales like this, but without enough power to run the basic systems, Hook couldn't even dream of repairing the body shell. He shook his head, his hands working like on automatic.   
"How is the feed?"   
Scavenger checked it. "He's absorbing it but it doesn't show any effect."   
Another curse.   
"Do we have a Life Unit?" Hook asked, never stopping his work.   
"Yes, but ....."   
"Get it!"   
Mixmaster shrugged and then ran off toward the med bay main hall to get the needed equipment. Hook knew why his comrade doubted his decision. The Life Unit was for severe injuries, to stabilize a patient for the repair, but not for such near-death cases like Megatron. It might destroy more than it helped, but it was also the only chance he saw. The Life Unit would mimic body functions to the mind, giving it a rest while the surgeon repaired the damage done to the body. The problem was that the moment the unit was removed, the mind was confronted with a still pain-filled body shell, the real body shell, and it might go haywire. Megatron was a strong personality with a strong mind and because of it Hook hoped that no backlash would occur.   
They had to take this chance.   
Mixmaster returned with the machine and while Hook still worked, the others set it up. Several minutes later, an eternity for the Constructicon, Megatron was hooked up and his systems quieted down.   
"Let's get to work," Hook said quietly.

Sparks stayed where she was, her optics never leaving the inanimate Decepticon leader. Somewhere, deep inside, something cried softly.   
* * *

It had been a warehouse once, containing machinery and raw material. Now it was a molten heap, the occasional spark speaking of cut wires and broken circuits. Here and there smoke rose into the sky, small fires still burning, most of them electrical fires.   
Nothing moved.   
No sound but the crackle and snap of tortured metal and dead circuits.   
And then a small heap of debris moved. Slowly, painfully, almost as if in slow motion, something sneaked out from under the heap. It was a hand, one finger torn off, exposing circtuis, the other badly burned. The back of the hand was blistered with heat, as was the rest of the arm. Then the movement stopped, the hand going limp.

* * *

Kup surveyed the damage and shook his head, unable to comprehend what had happened. It had happened fast and without any real warning. One moment he had been fighting the enemy, the next the world around him had ceased to exist as he knew it. South continent was no more and the rest of Cybertron was either badly damaged, wrecked or badly shaken. He had survived -- unlike many. And now he had a job to do. Security came foremost, security for those who had survived and walked around in confusion.   
The old Autobot walked down into the destruction and started to gather his first 'volunteers' and helpers, simultaneously contacting West Central. The com link was filled with static and he got only meager information, but at least he knew that the new base was still standing and sending out help as well.

* * *

Sphere had been in and out of med bay ever since the last of the Tji had either fled or had been destroyed. Well, except for one. And this one Tji was now a prisoner. Her name was Ranora, she had lost her body shell and she was incredibly weak. Sphere recognized the symptoms of decay, the yellowish color of the cloud, the almost jerky movements and the barely existent reaction to outside stimuli. Sphere had voluntarily taken over the duty of keeping and eye on the Tji, who had not put up much of any resistance when they had brought her in. She was in a high security room, constantly under surveillance, but right now no one had really any time for her. Too much was to do to keep their own people from dying......   
Sphere strode through the corridor and toward  the holding cell. She had had a bit of air and she wanted to talk to Ranora. Of all the Cybertronians she should hold the biggest hatred, but somehow she didn't.   
She stopped in front of the cell, checked the status and winced. Ranora had grown even weaker. Then she entered her access code and the door opened. She stepped in.   
Ranora shrank back as she entered and Sphere immediately raised her hands. "I'm a friend," she said calmly.   
"You are not  .... them," the Tji whispered weakly, sounding surprised.   
"No. Ralyk created me."   
A shiver ran through the sickly yellow cloud of energy. Sphere stepped a bit closer.   
"I want to help you."   
"How?" Ranora sighed. "There is no way to help me, except to give me a body shell and there is no chance I'd ever get one."   
Sphere nodded slowly. "Looks like it. Isn't there any way you could live with a Cybertronian as a symbiont?"   
Ranora laughed softly. "If there were a chance, don't you think I would have taken it? Entering a body shell results in shock for the personality and in death." She twitched her tentacles. "No hope."   
The female Key looked at the Tji, their enemy, now nothing more than a dying, helpless being. "Why did you come to us in the first place? You were found so close to South Port that I don't believe you were there by accident. No Tji was that close." She tilted her head. "You were coming to us. Then you were injured, found two possible shells where you were trapped, Sparks the most likely option for a possession. Still you tried to communicate with Optimus. Why, Ranora?"   
Ranora was silent for a long time, then she said softly, "Because I finally realized a mistake made so long ago. I didn't want to be part of it anymore."   
"And you paid for it."   
"As I am still paying. I know I will die."   
Sphere lowered her optics, deep in thought. "Maybe I can help."   
The Tji flickered slightly. "How? There is no one who would want to even try this symbiosis.... and I would never demand a permanent one, only for regeneration...."   
Sphere smiled slowly. "Maybe there is."

* * *

In another part of med bay, several rooms further down the corridor, the Sentinel medic Skywolf was facing an equally challenging repair. His patient was stable, at least, which he was thankful for, but Midnight had lost sixty-nine percent of his artificial skin's nurturing fluids and his skin was cut in so many places that Skywolf suspected he had to get him into a regeneration tank. The Matrix energy had done the worst damage, though, frying a lot of important circuits and finally blocking the Interface link.   
"I feel blind and deaf," Midnight muttered as he lay on the repair bed.   
Skywolf was currently fixing the worst wounds, glad that he didn't have to take care of Steve as well. The human had not been in an Interface coma when they had brought in Midnight and he had been able to get out on his own. Steve was confused and totally exhausted, but he doggedly stayed around. Maybe it was the best. Midnight's link was blocked and Steve's presence kept the young leader from panicking. His rational mind might tell him that there had been no separation, but his feelings were different.   
"The moment we can get this Matrix energy out of your system you'll be fine," Skywolf said.   
Midnight sighed. He felt the Matrix energy and it wasn't a pleasant feeling. He was always somehow aware of the energy levels because both Optimus Prime and Rodimus radiated Matrix energy -- and Vector Sigma as well. But this energy was trapped and contained, not inside him! Right now it was and it felt like he was running a fever, making him nauseous and incredibly sensitive. Skywolf had switched off his pain sensors and he was glad for it.   
"Okay, my friend, that's all I can do for you. The tank will be ready in a few moments and I'll put you under for the time being." Skywolf smiled as he saw Midnight tense. "You'll be okay."   
"I know," he mumbled, sneaking a reassuring look at Steve, who was almost nodding off in his chair. "And it will give Steve some time to get rest as well."   
"Exactly."   
Midnight tried to relax. It didn't work completely, but at least he didn't feel like running straight into the next wall out of the insane thought that Steve was dead. He just prayed that the regeneration tank not only restored his skin but also his link.

*

Rodimus was asleep. On some level he was still aware of where he was, but it was like a dream. Shanygn sat with him, feeling exhausted as well but much better than her partner. For her it had been only a question of supplying him with the necessary power to keep going, but it had been his systems straining to the breaking point and failing one after the other. It had been his mind that had slowly started to split into awareness and dream. He had come out of the initial Tji attack better than many, most of his injuries superficial. A new coat of paint was the least worry -- which was also a reason why he still looked singed. He'd need a new paint job. His cuts and bruises had been cleaned and repaired as was necessary, more severely injured people taking priority. Now he was hooked up to an energon feed, all systems shut down to basic running, his body trying to restore itself.   
Someone entered the room and she looked up, a smile splitting her pale face. Nicholas Cavanaugh walked over and wordlessly embraced her, holding her tightly. She had known he had survived because Tornado had been seen popping in quickly and he had not appeared to be going insane with the loss of a partner, but neither had seen the other until now. She hugged him back, closing her eyes, feeling herself relax completely for a few minutes.   
"Are you okay?" Nicholas asked softly.   
She nodded. "I'm fine. You?"   
"Feeling a bit stiff and wishing I could focus on something else but busted circuits for a while....."   
She looked at his drawn, shadowed face, recognizing the signs. Nicholas was most likely keeping awake with stimuli drugs. She knew them, had used them before, and she knew that after four days of constant use the human body would simply shut down. They didn't addict you to the drug and you needed two hours of off-time even with stims, but the effect of prolonged use was abrupt and complete. Nicholas would simply collapse and sleep for the next day.   
"How many more have come in?" she asked softly.   
"Too many. And too many didn't even make it here. Shan ..... I.... it's terrible," he whispered. "One died under my hands!"   
Shanygn bit her lower hip and embraced him again, rubbing his tight shoulders. They stood together for a long time.   
"I need to go again," Nick then said slowly, still holding her, making no moves to leave.   
She stepped back, smiling at him. "I'll be here if you need some time off," she told him softly.   
He kissed her gently, then left the room again. Shanygn watched him, wishing she could help, but she was needed here. Rodimus could come out of his rest any hour and she'd need every bit of her mental power to keep him from leaving med bay. She knew he'd be pig-headed enough to try and get up -- and she was the one who had to make him stay put, a small, weak humanoid against a Cybertronian.   
No fair, she thought and an amused smile tugged at her lips. He should have back-up......

* * *

On the surface it was quiet. Not in the sense of the word quiet as in 'noiseless', but more like in 'calmness after the storm'. The storm had been vicious, it had demanded sacrifice, it had killed and it had destroyed. Ruins dotted the barely recognizable South continent, smoke curled up into the silent sky, fires burned here or there. Nothing had been left standing, nothing had come away unscathed. The destruction had reached deep into the planet itself and had torn apart level after level of underground facilities. Those who had thought themselves safe under tons of steel had found their death because of the weight above them. Ceilings had crashed down and buried them; few were found functioning and in a condition where they might even make it.   
SkyLynx flew over the blackened ground, keen eyes looking for survivors, for those searching for help, for those who were giving help and needed his uncanny talents as aerial transport to the nearest med bay facility. He had run countless flights back and forth between West Central and anywhere else. Here and there small field centers had been established, but West Central was taking the brunt of the injured. Many he had brought there would not survive, he knew. It was pure luck they had been alive when he had delivered them into the capable hands of the medical team. Some had even died aboard. It was frustrating and depressing, but it was his job. Everyone had a job and he or she knew they had to do it. Others depended on them, trusted them, needed them.   
The shuttle turned in a wide arc and continued his flight and search pattern. From up here he also saw the damage that had occurred further away. The South continent had not been the only part of Cybertron to suffer. Suddenly he caught sight of something.   
"SkyLynx to base!" he opened a link.   
"This is Blaster blastin'! What's up?"   
"Get a Crash Team to my coordinates," SkyLynx told the communications expert. "My superior scanners have picked up a faint life sign. It's energy signature is Venerakkin."   
"Gotcha. Crash team on the way. Blaster out!"   
SkyLynx landed beside the partly visible body of the Venerakkin and carefully heaved some heavy debris of the slender form. He winced as he saw how bad the robot looked. He hoped the Crash Team would be here in time.....

* * *

The whole med bay was overflowing with people; humans, humanoids and robots alike. Medical personnel was running around, patients either lay or stood or leaned somewhere, waiting for treatment or help. Many had only superficial wounds and needed a sealing of the cut or bruise. They were the ones who would be treated last. Severe cases lay among them, human and Cybertronian medics treating them. All looked tired and worn but they still worked. The injured were flooding in and some were almost immediately distributed to the surgery rooms.   
Nicholas walked among the injured, trying to ignore all the suffering, though it was hard. He was among those human medics/engineers who were assigned to Cybertronians, thanks to his unique talent. He had been up since ....too long..... His head was swimming every time he concentrated on something aside from circuits. The moment he was presented with a technical problem, an injured robot, his mind went in gear and he could work, but his body was slowly tiring out. And still so much to do. His brief encounter with Shan had given him a small boost, but he knew nothing would boost him better than the drugs he was taking.   
Humans were working in shifts, those off-shift sleeping in the pandemonium around them, oblivious to the noise as exhaustion took over. Some even slept among the patients to be there if additional help was needed; few made the effort to walk to their quarters.   
Walking by a particular door Nicholas tried to ignore its presence. No one liked to think of what this door hid. The room was just another room among many, but then again, not..... Behind this door were the remains of those who had not made it, humans and Cybertronians alike. And too many had not made it. One had died away under Nicholas' hands and the anger and frustration he felt had doubled back on his Interface partner, almost physically attacking him. Tornado kept the link open, supplying Nicholas with emotional help and also with the needed energy to continue.   
A sudden commotion drew his attention to the med bay entrance and he saw some helpers wheel in wounded humans. He was ready to turn away when he caught a glance of who was on one of the stretcher.   
"Oh god!!" he whispered hoarsely.

* * *

Mel's nerves were lying open and she knew there would be a time when she had her own breakdown, but not right now. After she had been freed from the doorway chamber where she, Jonathan Darren and Nightmare had been trapped, she had had a short physical examination and then been declared okay. She knew she was okay, though tired, and Jonathan Darren was the same, though he had suffered from oxygen deprivation. Nightmare had received a bit more help to give him the chance to transform but no final repairs could be made. There were worse cases.   
Like Jon, who was a brilliant engineer, Mel was working in med bay, though mainly in her own field, counseling and empathic mind work. She wasn't telepathic and even she had had this special power, she wouldn't have been able to read a mind just like that. There was no such thing as real mind reading anyway. No one could filter thoughts so clearly as to get words and sentences out of the mess inside. The more intelligent a creature was, the more difficult it was to read them. Dozens of thoughts happened every second, were discarded, picked up again, and then concluded. To Melissa a mind was like a picture -- full of colors. Emotions materialized in different shades and intensity and she had learned how to tell them apart. Still, it wasn't telepathy. Interface partners were able to touch each other's mind and 'talk', but they weren't telepathic. They used one special bond, nothing more, nothing less. Empathy was hard enough for Mel, sorting through a myriad of emotional nuances and trying to focus on helping the patient without getting lost in his or her own problems and sensations.   
Those who came in were calmed, told everything was okay and that they were in capable hands, and then guided through the stages where a medic would shut down their pain sensors. After that her job was done and she moved on to the next.   
And one of them was sitting on the examination table and was treated by Disaster. The Decepticon's movements were brisk and professional as he closed some cuts and slapped on sealants. His bodily injuries weren't severe, but his mind was in the worst possible state. Mel stood in one corner, trying to get her shields to work. Emotions were streaming her way, all of them mixing into a big heap of pain, fear, anger, desperation, suffering and faint hope. But the strongest emotions came from Disaster's patient right now and she had to concentrate solely on him. Routine, long years of training, and having done this dozens of times in the last hours helped her with her task.   
Optimus Prime was going through his own personal hell, which didn't show on the outside but which was clear to a robotic empath like Mel.   
"Okay, take it easy, Prime," Disaster now said. "I'd like to take you off duty as much as possible."   
"I can't."   
"I know," Disaster sighed. "Just take it easy."   
Optimus slid off the table, nodding. As he left med bay, Disaster turned to Mel who was rubbing the bridge of her nose.   
"Emotional overload," she said, sounding a bit strained.   
"You or him?" the Decepticon asked, faintly amused.   
"Both. Whatever he went through, it was enough to let him snap. Something glued him back together but its not a very strong glue. He's still under attack from his personal nightmares and it's only a matter of time. Disaster, he needs help."   
"I know, but who volunteers to face him? Normally I'd say Rodimus but he's currently in an even worse condition, at least bodily."   
Mel nodded. Rodimus was on a constant energon feed, replenishing what he had lost.   
"I'll keep an eye on him," she then told him.   
"Mel ......"   
"I'll be fine."   
"Just get some sleep, okay?"   
Mel bit her lip. Get some sleep, yes, good advice. But how? Emotions were bombarding her constantly!   
"Okay." She flashed him a smile, then left. She knew Disaster knew about her abilities and where her limits lay. This should not prove a problem -- but she was also exhausted and her shields were pounded by all the emotions around her .... it would be difficult.   
Someone joined her as she walked down the corridor and she smiled. "Hi, Bat."   
"Oi! You still awake?" The little lizard, well, little by Cybertronian standards, walked with her. He had broken one wing in the cave-in of South Port and had been found only yesterday. He was remarkably fast recovering from the shock and dehydration and his bones were mending.   
"I'm on my way to my bed. You wanted anything special? Something the matter?"   
"No. Just wossname. Company." He gave her a mournful look. "Boss working and no time to play. Oi-oi-oi."   
Mel smiled. She knew that Bat didn't really want to play. He just didn't want to be alone and didn't confess it. Bat, despite proclaiming he was an independent and self-reliant person, was very much a group animal. He liked company.   
"I have a couch you might want to take into consideration as a nest," she said casually. "As long as you let me sleep, you are welcome to use it."   
"Oi!" The faceted eyes swirled with happiness. "Wossname! Great!"   
Mel chuckled. "Just remember: everything stays where it is."   
"Promise. Still have TeeVee?"   
She laughed. "Yes."   
"Oi-oi-oi!!"   
Both disappeared into the small human quarters. Five minutes later Melissa Witwicky was deep asleep and Bat happily curled up on her couch, watching TV.

* * *

Nightmare stood in the doorway chamber, looking at the gigantic rings as if they held the answers to all his questions. Once they had; not anymore though. Now they were nothing but a dead mechanism, waiting to be reactivated and explored, waiting for a control to take over again.   
"Looks better than expected," Starscream said, equally looking around.   
He walked over to the control cube and touched it. It reacted to the former Decepticon's touch and lit up. Starscream allowed himself a pleased smile. Nightmare walked around the rings and checked them for damage but nothing had cracked them. There weren't even stains here.   
"Well, we know it works, we know how to open it and we can set coordinates," Starscream said slowly.   
"But we no longer have a fail safe system," Nightmare finished.   
Both Gatekeepers knew that this was their biggest problem. The fail safe had been Ralyk, but Ralyk was gone now, leaving a gigantic hole of emptiness that needed to be filled -- somehow. Part of that filling was their job. They had to find a way to protect the system against unauthorized use. The space station, which had been equally destroyed, had monitored the doorway network, then Ralyk had taken over the job and now -- nothing. The network had been shut down, isolating all the doorways everywhere from each other, also isolating the planets and the Gatekeepers on them.   
"We need to get the system back up as it once was," Nightmare now said. "We have Keys, we have us guardians, the Gatekeepers, and we also have access to Security Control -- well, one at least."   
"Spook?" Starscream asked.   
Nightmare nodded. "He can access the security systems and he monitored the network as a job. We need him to see where we might run into something dangerous...."   
The other Gatekeeper had to agree. "I go and get him," he then said. "You get the system running and ready."   
Nightmare nodded again and walked over to the control cube, starting his work. Starscream left the chamber in search for their new team member.

* * *

Ultra Magnus looked kind of helplessly at the devastation around him. Above him in space, the same devastation ruled, so wherver he looked, nothing changed. Everything he knew, everything he had fought to preserve, was gone.   
Friends and comrades had died in vain.   
He banished that thought. It hadn't been in vain! They had survived!   
But at what cost?   
The planet was devastated even worse than throughout the entire Civil War.   
Countless lives had been taken.   
Optimus Prime was alive, though his condition was unknown.   
Rodimus Prime was also alive, though weak.   
And the rest of the Council .... were in various states of repair.   
The commander sighed and shook his head. Due to severe lack of leadership, the seconds had taken over, but he knew that was not enough. The survivors needed a person to turn to and neither of them was that person. Cyclonus, Wild Card and he were doing their best, but it just wasn't enough. Tornado, the only one of the Council in any condition to lead, wasn't someone Ultra Magnus would turn to and the Seeker also didn't try to impose himself on them. He was there if needed, but he also stayed back and ran his own business.   
Suddenly he heard steps and looked up from his work, which hadn't proceeded in the last hours. Wherever he turned he encountered more problems than before.   
"Rodimus?!" he exclaimed, partly surprised, partly relieved, partly worried.   
Rodimus Prime nodded, his face reflecting strain but also determination. He looked okay from the outside, but bodily injury hadn't been the initial problem. He had been on such a low energon level that he should have stopped functioning after half a building had collapsed on him, but his Interface had enabled him to keep going beyond the point of shut-down. Disaster had pumped energon into him prior to any other repair and then had put him to repair sleep. Now Rodimus was awake, on his own two feet and apparently much better.   
"Magnus," he greeted him and nodded. "What's the status?"   
Ultra Magnus only hesitated a micro second, then gave his commander a detailed status report.   
Rodimus nodded. "All right. You know we are in no condition to do much about specific problems, but we need to solve them anyway. I want the search for survivors to take priority. West Central has to be hooked up to all the back-ups we can find. Too much depends on its around-the-clock readiness."   
Magnus nodded. "Will do, Rodimus."   
"Optimus is on leave. No one is to bother him with anything. If you need a decision you can't make or anything along that line, come to me or Tornado." Noting Magnus' expression Rodimus added, "He is one of the Council, Ultra Magnus. He is as much able to make command decisions as anyone else."   
"Understood."   
"I want all of the lieutenants to act together on this. Try and work on one problem at a time, delegate work, make use of resources." Rodimus glanced at the status list. "That'll be all. I'll be in my office."   
Magnus nodded and watched him leave. Then he started his own calls.

* * *

Sphere sat in the Cybertronian Intensive Care Unit, trying not to see how many robots lay in here, Autobots and Decepticons alike. Many were in far worse conditions than the one she was keeping company. Megatron had survived the repair and he had not had another system failure, but it had been a close call. Hook was still crossing his fingers that everything would hold. The Life Unit had been removed and his mind seemed to deal with it all just fine. She looked at the motionless, silver form, wishing he'd show at least a single sign of life. It was strange to see him this silent, this totally devoid of life. Even when he was calmly sitting in his office or in a conference there was a bright fire burning deep inside him, a temper close to bursting when challenged, a strong spirit. Now there was nothing of it and it frightened her.   
Sparks lay curled up on the monitor keeping track of his energon levels, emerald optics never leaving Megatron. Sphere knew the cat was not likely to confess it but she deeply cared about the Decepticon leader. And so did Sphere. She had come so close to losing him and he was still in danger, but her hopes were rising. She knew he'd make it. He had to. Now and then someone dropped in, checked on patients or wheeled in new ones. Sphere kept an eye on the other ICU cases as well, ready to help if help was needed, but nothing had happened so far.   
Suddenly the monitor showed a faint spike and Sparks' ears popped up. Sphere stared at the monitor, blinking. Another spike. Sparks rose, looking at the screen from upside down, faint hope visible in her optics as she looked at Sphere.   
"He will make it," the Key whispered, the same hope reflecting in her voice.   
Sparks allowed herself a smile.

* * *

Rodimus sat in his office, wondering if Cybertronians could get headaches. He definitely felt like it. He knew he wasn't physically on the top, but he had functioned under worse conditions and it hadn't affected him. Now he was starting to feel increasingly under pressure. Everyone was turning to him, even though there were others for them to ask. Rodimus Prime was like a rock in a stormy sea, someone the survivors badly needed, someone to rely on, to turn to. He had accepted this role the moment he had stepped out of med bay, ignoring Disaster's angry frown and Shanygn's advice to get some rest. Everything around him was in chaos and ruins; he couldn't just lie there, awake, knowing, thinking ..... He just couldn't.   
He had asked First Aid to put Optimus Prime on leave. His older partner was totally exhausted -- emotionally. Rodimus had seen him down in the collapsed South Port tunnels; he had felt the madness through the Matrix links; he knew something was wrong and that it needed fixing, but there was no normal repair for it. The wound was emotional and the healing had to come from there. Keeping him off work might be the first step, Rodimus knew. He needed distance, and peace and quiet. Midnight was on the best way to complete recovery and Megatron was finally out of danger.   
Rodimus sighed and rubbed his optics. A new list of dead had come in only an hour ago and it had grown. He looked up and focused on Cyclonus. The Decepticon second-in-command had taken minimal damage in the battle and he had been one of the first to be up and about, except for Magnus who had come down from the Apocalypse and been in the best condition of all.   
"The Predacons are under control again," Cyclonus now said calmly. "The Stunticons are another chapter. We have located one of the surviving two."   
Rodimus nodded. In a way he understood the behavior of the combiner who had lost their comrades in the battle. One combiner had been obliterated completely, three had been disabled because of dead team members.   
"Try and contain the other as well, but don't use excessive force. What happened to him was bad enough already."   
"And you know what happens to those who get into the way of the surviving combiners," Cyclonus reminded him.   
Rodimus winced a bit. Razorclaw had nearly torn off Springer's arm when the triple-changer had tried to help him out of the ruins. The Predacon leader had survived the massacre on Charr and nearly lost Dive-bomb; now he had survived as well and lost two of his team. He was simply acting out a deep-rooted frustration and nothing got through to him. They had him in containment but they would have to deal with him and the other two Predacons soon.   
"I know," he sighed. "I know. Just try and moderate the conflict."   
"What about the hunters?"   
Hunters. Yes, that was another problem. Tji had landed on Cybertron and no one believed that all of them had been killed, especially since Ranora had been brought up with Optimus Prime, Megatron and Sparks. Because she had survived, others might have been that lucky as well. The hunters were taking justice into their own hands, searching for those survivors, growing more and more paranoid about it. Everyone was a potential Tji host for them.   
"Watch them," he said tiredly. "There haven't been any problems yet, but there will be some soon."   
Cyclonus nodded and left. Rodimus returned to his work, looking at the list again. Too many..... With an angry gesture he switched it off and stood up, walking over to the window. He overlooked West Central's center yard, which was flurry of activity, shuttles coming in, ground transports lining up to take whatever or whoever the shuttles and aerial transports brought in. Beyond the walls was nothing but devastation, smoke curling up into the night.   
Was it already night again?   
Most likely. Rodimus was no longer living in cycles, he simply functioned as needed. And he was needed around the clock. Shanygn supported him silently, giving him the necessary boost now and then, but he knew she didn't approve of it. Still she realized that some things just had to be and the moment the initial crisis was over, he'd step down a pace. With a sigh he returned to work.   
Several hours later he was done with at least a small part of it, feeling a bit relieved, but also even more tired. Suddenly Rodimus heard a sound behind him and he turned. He saw a figure standing in the open door.   
"Hello handsome," Silhouette said softly.   
"Sil!" Relief and surprise was audible in his voice.   
Silhouette entered and the door closed after her. They hadn't seen each other since .... since the explosion of Ralyk. Now she walked over to him, wordlessly hugging him. He hugged her back, savoring the moment.   
"How are you?" he asked.   
"Fine. We had so much to do.... and still have. How are you?"   
He smiled at her. "Tired."   
Sil eyed him closely. She knew what his condition had been when he had come into med bay and she knew he had released himself because he was the only of the Council who was accepted by all factions, strange as it sounded. Tornado helped him as best as he could, but except for taking over the Sentinel and Seeker problems he couldn't assist all that much. Still, he was a great help. Even the Venerakkin turned to Rodimus.   
"You should get some recharge," Sil now said, rubbing his arms. "You need it. No use if you keel over."   
Rodimus sighed. "I know."   
"Promise you will get some rest."   
"Sil...."   
"Promise!"   
"All right, all right, I promise!"   
She smiled, satisfied. "I need to get back but I'll be here again after your recharge cycle."   
Rodimus reflected the smile, reluctant to let her go. When the door had closed after he again he seriously took into consideration starting another file. He had to deal with the Ranora problem.... But then he shook his head. He needed to recharge, Sil was right. He needed to be up and about later on at the meeting. He shut off his computer and then walked to the recharge bed in the other room. Two minutes later he was asleep.

* * *

Spike walked into med bay, feeling tense and like he would throw up any second. It was a curious feeling, especially the nausea, because he no longer had a real stomach to feel queasy with. His Protogen body was robotic and though it wasn't of the same construction as a Cybertronian body, it was still artificial.   
"Ambassador?" a quiet voice addressed him.   
Spike turned and looked into the tired and worn face of Dr. Kyle Scott. The medic had dark circle under his eyes and from his appearance he had not slept much since the catastrophe.   
"Where is she?" Spike asked, his voice calmer than he felt.   
"Come with me."   
Kyle led him through the large medical unit, passing rooms upon rooms of people who all needed help, who gave help and some who were beyond help. He aimed for one of the many doors and entered, Spike in tow. There were only human and humanoid patients here, lying on beds and mattresses and make-shift stretchers, separated by curtains or Spanish walls. They were either awake, drugged with pain-killers, asleep or trying to give fellow patients in need help as much as they could. Kyle nodded at the nurses and helpers while he passed through. He opened another room and entered Intensive Care.   
Spike swallowed. He recognized many of those in here, though some were badly burned or cut. All beds were isolated, kept in a sealed environment and some only accessible through an airlock. Kyle stopped in front of one room, his eyes deep with sadness and pain. Spike swallowed again, a human instinct, something he really didn't need to do.   
"How long?" her asked, his mouth dry, his voice that of a stranger.   
Kyle's ancient, dark brown eyes turned shades darker. "Spike...."   
"I said, how long," he repeated patiently.   
"I'm not sure. Two weeks, maybe three. Her injuries....."   
Spike nodded, stopping the doctor.   
"Please dress up in this," Kyle said quietly and gave him a medical garb with a cap, gloves and shoe covers.   
Spike did so and then entered the room. Kyle left him alone.   
The occupant of the sole bed didn't react to his entry and he moved closer, feeling his non-existent stomach clench.   
Carly Witwicky was a pale, frail looking shadow of her former self. Her face was miraculously unharmed, which could not be said about her body. She had suffered multiple cuts, fractures, bruises and traumas. It was a miracle that she had made it through the surgery. Scars would remain, a lot of them, her skin burned and her inner organs traumatized; she'd need continued surgery and treatment, but nothing of this would ever happen; no second or third surgery. Right now he would have been glad if she were conscious and out of danger.   
She wasn't. Neither of the two.   
Monitors and instruments for various purposes had been connected to her and registered every heartbeat, every breath, and Spike found his eyes fixing hypnotically on the rise and fall of her chest. Every breath meant she was continuing to live. Her head had been secured in a cage-like contraption to keep her from moving it. One of her neck vertebrae had been fractured and no one knew how bad the damage was. Only time could tell. But time was also against them. Internal injuries had weakened her on top of the fractures and she was no longer as young as she had been. She was healthy and fit, but her body showed her age and the injuries were severe enough to trouble the doctors. And then there was the danger of aninfection. Her immune system was totally down.   
Carly had been caught in an attack of the Tji landing on Cybertron and she was one of the few survivors. Many had died, many were dying and many might never be their old selves again. Those who had survived envied the dead. Emotional trauma was an even greater threat than the physical one. Wounds could be healed, but emotional pain was something set deep inside someone's psyche.   
Sitting down Spike watched his wife, wishing he could do anything .... anything at all. He felt so helpless. All he could do was hope and he knew it was not enough. It looked bad.

* * *

He had walked around aimlessly, not knowing what to do. He was officially on an unlimited leave and Rodimus was shunting all work towards everyone else but him. Without much to do, Optimus had decided to follow his basic instincts of where to go, but everywhere he went he saw nothing but death and destruction.   
And then he had found his way here.   
Somehow......   
Optimus had expected the room to look burned, scorched, maybe even scrapped, but the chamber of Vector Sigma looked almost untouched. There were barely any marks on the walls. Still, something had changed profoundly.   
Vector Sigma was gone.   
In his place hovered a ball of light, smaller than Vector Sigma, glowing in a greenish gray, flickering now and then. It hovered over the pedestal. Optimus Prime stopped dead in his tracks, staring. He took one step forward and something crunched under his foot. He looked down and frowned. Some kind of debris littered the floor. Thin plates of metal ...... shards, splinters..... but of what?   
"Optimus Prime...."   
The voice was hollow and faint, but it still loud enough to be heard. Optimus flinched.   
"Alpha Trion?" he whispered.   
The ball of light seemed to shift and ripple. "Yes."   
"What happened?"   
"Vector Sigma ....dead," the voice of the ancient Autobot whispered faintly, sounding strained. "Cubes ...safe..... help. Losing soon."   
Optimus stared. "Primus! You have the personality cubes inside of you?"   
"Yes."   
"How long can you hold them?"   
"Unknown. Help....."   
Optimus knew he had to act now. He opened a link to med bay. "Get a team with portable stasis fields down into Vector Sigma's chamber!" he ordered. "As many as possible!"   
Chaos sounded puzzled, but she complied. He closed the link and Optimus concentrated on the ball of light again.   
"Help is on the way, Alpha Trion. Just hold on!"   
There was no answer forthcoming and a tight feeling of fear spread through the Autobot leader. He couldn't lose one of his last links to Orion Pax's past! He just couldn't!

* * *

First Aid shook his head, unable to express what he felt. A Venerakkin stepped forward and ran a diagnostic scanner over the mutilated and burned body shell on the med bay table.   
"Bad," Magikk whispered. "Crushed neck and chest, none of the oxygen filters are on-line, she is low on energon, her main circuits are either fused, fried or have simply shut down, and her data banks are no longer connected to her core unit."   
First Aid looked at the body shell. "Stasis?"   
Magikk nodded. "We have to stabilize her core program and shut it off from her pain sensors and about every other sensor as well. We also have to compensate for missing limbs. Do we have the necessary parts yet?"   
First Aid nodded. "Supplies and raw material are coming in. What about her Veneran partner?"   
"She is still there. Which room?"   
"Twenty-seven," Nicholas answered, gesturing toward one of the empty treatment rooms.   
Magikk nodded and he and First Aid immediately pushed the mobile bed toward the room. Nicholas watched the door close and sighed.   
"Who's going to forward this report?" he asked softly.   
Jill McKennan bit her lower lip. "Another question: who will step between Optimus Prime and this room when he gets wind of who we have in there?"   
They exchanged a look. Yes, who would it be?

* * *

Megatron woke with the terrible sensation of suffocating and his mind went immediately blank with panic. Over-sensitivity to everything hit him like a sledge-hammer; too much sound and light! Too much bombarding his body. He activated his optics, shield them automatically against the glare of the light. He gasped as he felt energon course through him like liquid fire. He sat up, panic threatening to take over.   
"Stay calm!" a voice said and someone took his shoulder, trying to get him to lie down again.   
Megatron looked at the robot standing beside him. His confused mind registering it was a Decepticon, but nothing more.   
"It's okay," another voice said and it was somehow familiar.   
"Sphere?!" he rasped. Another shiver went through him.   
"Yes, it's me. Calm down."   
His optics finally fixed on a face and a reassuring smile. It was Sphere. "Where...?" And then he realized where he was. Med bay.   
Someone else appeared. It was Hook. He methodically checked him and, mainly he was much too weak and confused, Megatron let him do. Sphere was always close by and he became also aware of another presence sitting on the bed. Sparks. Emerald optics regarded him steadily. She brushed her head against his limp hand, then smiled mysteriously and jumped off the table. Megatron dimmed his optics again, feeling exhausted despite the fact that, following his internal chronometer, he had spent three days here.   
"Looks good," Hook finally said, finishing his examination. "You need to rest and I strongly advise against transformation, but you are on the best way to a full recovery."   
"Then it's time I empty this repair bed for someone else," Megatron decided.   
He tried to sit up and was hit by total disorientation. A slender and surprisingly strong hand took his arm and kept him where he was.   
"Take it easy. You are not yet strong enough to go anywhere," Sphere advised.   
"I'm perfectly fine," he snarled, his voice too uneven for his own liking. Megatron slid out of the bed with an angry scowl, the scowl deepening as his legs threatened to give way beneath him. He forced himself to stand upright, inhaling deeply.   
"I can see that."   
He glared at her. As always it had no effect. Hook had moved back, checking on other patients just to keep himself out of the line of fire, and glancing apprehensively at the pair. Sphere stood her ground, not moving an inch, and Megatron simply glared at something else, but he stayed put, even sat back on the bed again.   
He felt himself gradually relax, as he always did when she was around, ignoring Hook as best as he could. "How is Optimus?" he asked.   
Sphere's face darkened. "Not good," she said.   
"I understand," he said slowly.

* * *

Chaos and the Crash Team stormed into the chamber of Vector Sigma, not knowing what to expect. And nothing could have prepared them for the sight greeting them.   
"Primus...." Pipes whispered. "What the....?"   
Chaos blinked, then focused on Optimus Prime. "What happened?"   
"Vector Sigma exploded. This is what is left. Alpha Trion if forming this energy ball and keeping all the personality components that were stored inside the super computer inside and functioning," Optimus told them. "He can't keep going like this forever and we need to store the personality components somewhere safe."   
Chaos nodded. "Stasis."   
"Exactly."   
The female Decepticon turned to her team. "Okay, team, you heard him. Get the stasis transports up and running, then we start the extraction." She turned back to Optimus. "How much aware is Alpha Trion? How much can he assist us?"   
"He is weak and growing weaker," the Autobot leader explained. "We had contact, but he is fading in and out."   
"Okay." She looked thoughtfully at the glowing ball of energy. "Any clue as to how many components were inside Sigma?"   
"No. No one knows."   
Chaos sighed. This was going to be long and difficult......

* * *

Sphere had asked for this meeting and she knew that because it involved Ranora, Rodimus Prime was slightly apprehensive. He had tried to deal with the Tji problem and had fought against a rising tide of hatred. Everyone wanted to kill Ranora and only a few were willing to stand up for her safety. Even Starscream held such an amount of hatred that it surprised Sphere.   
"I think I have a solution for our problem -- at least temporarily," she started.   
"I'm all ears."   
She heard his tiredness. He might be recharging on a more or less regular basis, but all was resting on his shoulders, even though he distributed a lot of the responsibility. Somehow it all flowed back to him.   
"Ranora is dying because she can't go into a healing sleep. One reason is her low energy level, the other is the danger of her environment. She doesn't trust us to leave her alone while she is vulnerable."   
"She is vulnerable right now as well."   
Sphere nodded. "Yes, but at least she is still active and could at least partially defend herself. She would never succeed in taking over one of us -- anyone of us -- but she is still afraid."   
"And....?" Rodimus prodded.   
"We all know that she needs a host body....."   
"A victim!" Rodimus growled.   
"No, a host. Someone who guards her until she is strong enough."   
"Strong enough for what?"   
Sphere shrugged slightly. "Help? Return to her home? Find a new home?"   
"And who is this host? No one would be willing to risk this, Sphere! A Tji merging kills off the other personality!"   
Sphere steeled herself. "I will."   
"What?!" Rodimus stared at her as if she had just fried a logic circuit. Maybe he thought she had. "Sphere....!"   
"Rodimus, I'm the only logical choice. You know I was a Host before I was reborn in this robot body. I still have my Host space, which is in no way connected to my mind. I can shut out whatever is inside. Ralyk gave me these shields. Not even when the Tji interrogated me could they break into this part of me!" Her emerald eyes glowed with conviction.   
"And because of what the Tji did to you I can't allow this, Sphere!" Rodimus told her.   
"What they did to me is a matter of the past and the wounds have healed. I wouldn't make this offer if I had any doubts." She shook her head, dislodging some strands of hair. "I want to do it, Rodimus. I can do it. Please.... It will solve so many problems for us!"   
The young second-in-command stared at the desktop. He knew it would. A lot of problems indeed, and it would create a more as well.   
"If I say no you'd do it anyway, right?" he asked. Sphere only smiled and he sighed. "Why ask me in the first place, then?"   
She shrugged. "Chain of command. You are in charge here, you are responsible. I thought you might want to know...."   
Rodimus gave her a wry grin. "Did you talk with Starscream about it?"   
She hesitated. "No. I'll confront him with facts, Rodimus. He won't understand it anyway and he never will. But I have to do it to end this tension growing here."   
"You might start a whole row of new tension, you know."   
"I know. But they all know I'm protected, that I can't be taken over..... This is voluntary."   
Rodimus shook his head again. "You need help? Someone to have an eye on things?" he then asked.   
She smiled again. "No. I can do this alone just fine."   
He watched her leave, feeling slightly disturbed by it all.   
[She is trained, Roddy] Shanygn sent. [She knows her abilities best]   
[Yes, but she was also in the hands of the Tji a long time, she was tortured and questioned, and now she will carry one of them..... Shan, I'm just not sure]   
[So stop her]   
He gave a bark of humorless laughter. [How? Lock her up? Wouldn't help. Sphere makes her own decisions and is under no one's command]   
[She came to you to ask] Shanygn reminded him.   
[I know, but only to calm her conscience]   
[No, because she trusts and respects you]   
He sighed. Maybe; maybe not.   
[Listen....] Shan then said hesitantly. [I .... Did you hear about Carly?]   
Rodimus dimmed his optics in pain. Yes, he had. [How...?] He couldn't word the question, not even through a link. He knew very well how Carly was. He knew all the details because every ICU patient had a file that had been sent to him; he knew each one's estimated chance of survival, as well as he knew the names of the dead.   
[Spike is with her day and night. Daniel and Kim are with him in shifts.....] Shanygn's mind voice broke a bit. [Dana is out of danger and already running around again]   
Dana Janine Witwicky had broken her arm in three places and fractured two ribs, but she had bounced back from the injuries and didn't need constant observation. Kim and Daniel had been bruised and cut but were otherwise fine.   
[I know] he whispered.   
[Uhm, you know about the funeral service....?]   
He winced. [Yes]   
[Roddy.....]   
[It's okay, Shan] He pulled himself together. [I'll be there]   
She sent him a wave of support and he was thankful for it. As Shan retreated out of his mind he turned back to the next problem o face: the Venerakkin. They were sweeping the whole catastrophe area with small shuttles of their own, reporting locations of injured, dead or dying, but they only lifted their own out. Of course, they at least told the rest of the helpers where to go, but it irked Rodimus nevertheless. The Venerakkin transported their own out to remotely set up medical camps, run only by Venerakkin, and they left the others to be treated by Cybertronians. He had tried to find Rikkochet who, since Firefall was MIA, was the current Venerakkin leader, but she was equally MIA, presumed injured. And then a short report from med bay had informed him that SkyLynx had found her, in a bad condition and in need of immediate help. One Venerakkin medic was with her and he, despite the help First Aid had administered, had decided that no Cybertronian would continue her treatment. It was creating bad blood, a two-class society, and even First Aid, who was a patient and calm robot, was getting slightly itchy around the 'kkin. Rodimus knew he had to talk to the Venerakkin, whoever was in charge, and he had to talk soon. They had lost their own -- judging from the casualty lists about fifteen Venerakkin had died in the assault -- but that was no reason to act like, as Jill had put it, a prima donna. Even the Sentinels and Seekers, a race with even less survivors left, had integrated into Cybertronian society.   
Rodimus sighed softly. He knew that the confrontation would not go without blows and he knew he'd feel like strangling them all after it. Well, that feeling was nothing new anyway....

* * *

First Aid wasn't known to blow a fuse over things, but right now he was as close to it as he had ever been. The guts this medic had to simply tell him that Cybertronians would not treat a Venerakkin! The cold and final look! First Aid had helped Magikk stabilize Rikkochet as best as was possible and after a nod the 'kkin medic had unceremoniously kicked him out. First Aid was steaming mad, though it didn't show on the outside. How could he!   
Pipes made a wide detour around the chief medic and Kyle had shot him an understanding look. Like many, he had been involved in bringing Firefall back from the brink of death all that time ago and because of it he knew more about Venerakkin than they were really comfortable with. They didn't come for check-ups, they never got their injuries treated by a Cybertronian medic and they showed total distrust concerning med bay and their body structures.   
Who do they think they are?! The Veneran partner in their chest cavity doesn't make them special! The Sentinels, who'd have no reason at all to trust us, let us treat them! Midnight has absolutely no reason to even let me touch him after all the nasty stuff that happened to him in the past, but he trusts!   
First Aid nearly crunched a medical tool in his fist. He was a medic; he was sworn to help each and everyone. The 'kkin were on their best way to make him break this oath.   
Calming down with immense force First Aid turned to his research station. Kyle stepped beside him and smiled encouragingly.   
"Don't let them unnerve you," the Interfaced human said softly. "They have acted this way ever since they came here."   
"Then I wonder why they stayed," First Aid muttered. "They don't trust us, they don't trust anyone, they keep to themselves and each and every contact with a Venerakkin ends with a disaster." He remembered only too well when Firefall had maimed Midnight so badly that the young Sentinel had nearly died.   
Skywolf, who was immersed in his own work, smiled sadly. "We were the same once, First Aid."   
"But you changed. You at least tried to trust."   
"We had a young leader whose mind was set on proving that the Sentinels were no longer the hated figures out of the past," the old Sentinel said with an affectionate smile. "Without Midnight we might still roam space and evade your kind, hoping to survive just another day. Midnight changed a lot. He is open to new things. Firefall ..... she is old and has seen a lot; she has experienced so much pain and so much loss that she doesn't trust anyone but her own kind anymore. She probably thinks that letting anyone else in will either result in loss or betrayal."   
First Aid nodded. "And none of her kind is willing to step out of this circle and open up."   
"They are no longer Cybertronian. They are different, they lived different, they fought different wars."   
"Like the Sentinels," First Aid reminded his colleague.   
Skywolf chuckled. "Yes, like us. But we wanted your friendship and were ready to go the extra mile. Firefall is not sure what she wants. She knows she has to hate us, she knows she was once Cybertronian and should trust you. That is all she knows." The medic looked around. "You see, she is older than many of us and she survived things others would have perished of. The body can be repaired over and over again; the mind can't. We Sentinels are old as well, most of us anyway, and I'm as old as Firefall, but except for the one incident where your kind nearly exterminated us, I was never confronted with so much suffering as she was. She has been out of contact with her old life, her past, and all the other 'kkin are either offspring who never set foot on this planet or who never really cared about coming back."   
"Then why did they?"   
Skywolf shrugged. "She was in need. Her instincts lead her here and here she stayed. She made efforts, don't get me wrong, but she never took the extra step. And everyone follows her. That's why the 'kkin won't open up and let you help. They will assist us, they might stabilize a really severely injured individual, but their own come first. Survival." A dark shadow crossed over the medic's face. "I can relate to that."   
First Aid shook his head and sighed. "Still..... I wish .... Oh, I don't know!"   
Skywolf chuckled softly. "Accept it, First Aid. The Venerakkin, especially Firefall, have caused many problems before and they will always remain this way. They can't change without major effort and as long as Firefall doesn't take the very first step, no one will make it."   
The two so different robots looked at each other and First Aid wished the 'kkin would really make the same effort the Sentinels had made. It was painful, it was dangerous and risky, but it was worth it!   
"So, how are our ICU cases?" Skywolf changed the subject.   
First Aid accepted the change and both went over the charts of their worst cases.

* * *

Cyclonus stood as still as a statue and Jazz briefly wondered if he was functional. He hadn't spoken a single word since they had started out on their little mission. Raven had come back from a reconnaissance flight and given them a briefing concerning the situation 'down there' and now stood beside him, transformed into her robot mode. Without a word Cyclonus now moved down into the destruction.   
"Is he always that quiet?" Jazz asked in a low voice as they followed.   
Raven chuckled. "Well, not always, but believe it or not, he is a quiet type."   
Jazz watched the silent figure. Cyclonus scanned their surroundings, looking alert. They had to be alert here, very alert, because if they weren't they might end up pretty dead. Their mission was to follow the self-proclaimed Tji Hunters, those robots who were convinced that a small group of Tji was hiding in the ruins and waiting for the Cybertronians to let their guard down. Then they would strike. Containing the robots in question would be of no use, so Cyclonus had decided to watch them. Jazz had found out about his plans and come along, offering help -- mainly because Rodimus had also approached him about the subject and asked him to.   
Suddenly Cyclonus stopped and Jazz nearly bumped into him. He stepped back and then looked at what his Decepticon team mate was looking at. He gasped.   
"No!" he breathed.   
"Contact West Central," Cyclonus said, voice level. "We found another casualty."   
Jazz complied without protest, then his optics were drawn to the badly burned and twisted body of a fellow Autobot. Pain wormed its way into his emotional whirlpool and he knew this was another blow for them. They had lost too many already, though he didn't know the exact numbers, but each new body they found was one too many.

* * *

Starscream felt like hit in the gut. "What?!" he finally exclaimed.   
Sphere looked at her brother. She had expected this and a part of her wondered if she had done the right thing. Maybe she should have acted first and told him the cold, hard facts after she had her new Guest.   
"I said that I will be the new Host to Ranora," she repeated.   
"The Tji?!"   
"Yes."   
"Are you out of your mind?!" he screamed.   
"No, but I will soon be if you don't turn down the volume."   
Starscream stared furiously at her. "You are giving your body over to one of the enemy?"   
Sphere frowned. "I'm not 'giving' anything to anyone, least of all my body! This is no sale, Starscream, this is a job!"   
"A job?!" he sneered. "You call joining up with a Tji a job? It will kill you like it killed others of our kind! Are you so blind? Or did they do something with your head while they had you?" Starscream towered over the other robot.   
Sphere met the fury with outside calmness but silent anger cooked inside of her. She had expected this all, but it hit her nevertheless.   
"I'm trying to make a first step! The war is over and Ranora is not the enemy any more! Get this into that narrow-minded head of yours! And no one did anything to me! This is my own decision!"   
He leaned down. "How do you know? Maybe they programmed you to do this in case the war was lost! Maybe they want you to run around and declare peace and harmony between two enemies! Maybe they have a second invasion force somewhere out there and this ....thing .... is just their spy!" Starscream was talking himself into a rage.   
Sphere's optics flashed. "Fine! You think that! Looks like I really don't know you anymore, brother! You changed! A lot! You are suspicious, you are dense and you are more prejudiced than before! The Tji are of the same race as the Veneran! They waged a war, they were defeated and not all fought with full conviction! Ranora was trying to come to us and surrender!"   
He hissed. "It could all be a trick!"   
"Everything is a trick to you!" she shot back. "Ever since you went on the rampage all on your own, on this little revenge trip!"   
"I had every right to!" Starscream yelled.   
Sphere felt a shift in topic and was fully intent on pursuing it, though it lead completely away from her soon-to-be-Host condition. But it lead somewhere she had planned to as well.   
"You ran away," she stated flatly.   
Starscream's red optics flared with the indignity this evoked. "I did not! How dare you accuse me of this!"   
"I was kidnapped by the Tji. You rescued me. I was catatonic. You thought they had already killed me. You left. You were out to kill them," Sphere stated one fact after the other, watching him flinch away from her. "You wrapped yourself into your own mantle of hatred and pain and you forgot that there were others who might need your help! I won't do this. I can help someone and I have the abilities to do it! I am trained for this job!"   
Sphere turned on her heels and started to leave, anger boiling inside of her.   
The Gatekeeper trembled slightly. "What if she takes over?" he whispered.   
Sphere stopped and turned back. "She won't. You know my abilities as a Host. I Hosted you, remember?" Her voice was gentle again. "You couldn't take me over even when I was a humanoid. You tried, I know, and you failed." She smiled at his discomfort. "Ralyk kept the Host space alive and used it. It's like a fortress."   
Indecision battled with deep-set anger and fear. Sphere was just about to leave again when he spoke up.   
"Sis..... be careful, okay?"   
Her smile was wide this time. "You know I will."   
He reflected her smile and she left. She knew it might take him a while to get used to this new situation but she knew he wouldn't try and discourage her again. Starscream was her brother and he had always supported her as long as they had known each other, which was close to 150 years now, longer if you counted time jumps.   
Sphere knew it was dangerous but not as dangerous as if she had tried this without the security of her Host space. She knew she could contain Ranora in there. She walked into the holding area and nodded at the two guards outside the cell.   
"Rodimus Prime sent us a memo concerning .... errr.... that," one of them said, visibly uncomfortable, nodding toward the cell.   
"Yes?"   
"We know what's going to happen and  ..... you see ... how can we be sure that this thing won't take you over?" He fidgeted. "I mean, it could and we wouldn't know...."   
Sphere sighed silently to herself. How could she explain this to them? They wouldn't understand!   
"Do you have a bodyguard?" the second one asked.   
"I don't need one."   
"She has me," a new voice said almost simultaneously.   
Sphere turned and the two guards looked in surprise at their visitor. "Starscream?" she asked.   
He smiled at her. "I decided you might need back-up. Here I am. We are a team, are we not?"   
She smiled as well. Yes, we are." Turning back to the guards she asked, "Is this security enough for you? Starscream is a Gatekeeper and his core unit has safety mechanisms installed by Ralyk to prevent a Tji take-over."   
"Yeah, well, okay," the first one muttered and stepped aside.   
"Thank you."   
The both entered.   
"Hello, Ranora," Sphere greeted the weak energy life form huddled in one corner.   
"Sphere," Ranora whispered faintly.   
The Key winced. Ranora was too close to dying and she might not even survive the transfer, but they had to try.   
"Who is he?"   
"He is my brother. His name is Starscream."   
"Gatekeeper," Ranora said and shivered a bit. Her color was now completely yellow with wisps of gray or black.   
"Yes. You can trust him as you can trust me."   
The Tji was silent.   
"I am ready, Ranora."   
She flickered once. "Don't do it, please," she said.   
Sphere approached the cloud, which was cowering in one corner. Starscream stayed at the door, watching it all.   
"I won't let you die if there is a chance to help."   
"What of your friends?"   
"Let me deal with my friends. I am my own person and I have decided to help you."   
Glancing at Starscream who only smiled dryly, Sphere walked a bit closer and stretched out one hand, gently touching the cloud. It tickled a bit. Ranora shivered, drawn to Sphere, her instincts telling her that this was the only way to survive, but it was also something very dangerous to do. Sphere opened her Host space and felt the Tji react to it. She wanted this and was only afraid of what might be the consequences. All those thoughts were wiped away when Sphere drew her in. Ranora slid into the small space inside Sphere's chest, a tickling feeling spreading through Sphere as she did.   
::Hello:: she welcomed her new Guest.   
The Tji trembled. ::Do I hurt you?::   
::No. This is a Host space. You cannot get out without my permission and nothing will harm you here::   
Ranora touched the confines of the room, exploring it. ::Thank you::   
::Just relax and recover. We'll handle everything else later::   
"Sis?"   
She turned and looked at the worried Gatekeeper who tried not to look so worried at all and was failing miserably.   
"I'm okay."   
"Sure?"   
She had to grin at his question. "Very."   
Sphere left the holding cell, a faint smile on her face as she felt Ranora finally give in to her body's demand and go into a regeneration sleep. Now came the hard part: fight against the prejudice present everywhere.   
The two guards gave her suspicious looks but since she hadn't acquired a sudden, grayish film on her skin and since Starscream was acting friendly -- as far as he could anyway -- they didn't do a thing. When she had left the cell, one called Rodimus Prime and informed him that the Tji was now Hosted by Sphere.

* * *

"Mr. President, we don't request much. No ships, no escort, no parade. We only want your permission to enter Earth airspace to transfer those humans whose last wish was to be buried on Earth to their home planet."   
The gray haired man on the vid screen frowned a barely perceptible frown. "Who will accompany this transport?" he then asked.   
"Only the relatives."   
"And the transport itself?"   
Rodimus tried not to glare. "It will be a neutral shuttle, none of ours and no Cybertronian Transformer."   
The President nodded. "The transport will have a pre-set time window. If you miss it, there is no second appeal. You will get the time and coordinates." With that he terminated the connection.   
Rodimus stared at the dark screen, his optics icy cold, then his fist struck the hapless machine and shattered it into a thousand pieces. He hissed something obscene under his breath.   
"Don't say a word!" he hissed as he looked at Shanygn, who stood beside the desk, arms crossed in front of her chest.   
"How about 'asshole' or 'arrogant bastard'?" she asked pleasantly.   
He hissed again. "How can he do that to his own people? A time window! A limited time on the planet! Like criminals on leave from the prison! Shan, they are burying their loved ones!" He erupted from the chair and paced, his steps measured and controlled, but his optics told his partner just how agitated he was. "If they shut us out, okay, but not their own kind!"   
"I know, Roddy, I know. And we can't do anything about it." She sighed. "What will you do about this blockade anyway?"   
Rodimus sighed as well. Earth was in no way willing to take the first step and give Cybertron a chance. A chance! He snorted. It was Earth who had kicked them off in a whiff of paranoid fear. It was Earth who had severed all trade business links. And now they wanted Cybertron to crawl back and apologize. He had no idea what to do. He wouldn't crawl and he wouldn't apologize for a mistake he didn't make!   
[Maybe you have to] Shanygn said softly through the link.   
[It wasn't our mistake, Shan! They kicked us off!]   
She met his glowing optics. [Yes. But diplomacy means to go half the way....]   
[And they won't even move an inch from their position!] he snarled. [All they give us are 'time windows' and permissions!] He slammed his fist into the wall and winced a bit.   
"Calm down, partner," Shanygn said aloud. "Hurting yourself won't help. You've been through enough."   
"Maybe not enough!" He shook his head. "How do you explain this to the mourning humans who want to bury their family and friends? 'Sorry, people, but Earth doesn't like you any more than they like us and that's why we have to run this show quickly'?"   
She closed her eyes in emotional pain. They wouldn't understand. Those who had stayed here had done so voluntarily. No one had told them that they'd be treated like lepers. No one had told them they were no longer welcome on their home planet. She could relate to this, though her situation seemed different. She had voted to stay off her home planet forever, but even if she returned, for her people she was such a leper.   
Rodimus calmed down with force. He still had a funeral on Cybertron to attend and he knew that the burial of his own people was soon as well. He had no idea where the dead shells of the Seekers and Sentinels had been taken. Tornado had handled it.   
"Let's get this over with," he muttered and left the office, Shanygn in tow. She wouldn't leave him alone now; he needed emotional back-up. Talking to the survivors about what Earth had decided would batter his shields again and he had by Primus taken enough lately. He was just glad that Optimus didn't have to deal with this.   
Rodimus frowned a bit. Optimus, yes. He might have to drop by at his friend's place and see how he was doing. He hadn't seen the Autobot leader in a while and somehow this worried him. He knew he would be at the funeral though and maybe he could talk to him after that. Rodimus wondered how much he could tell Optimus about what had happened concerning Ranora. Right now, nothing at all might be best, he decided.

* * *

The room looked like a small intensive care unit all for itself. Here and there machines dotted the normal emptiness, cable sneaked from the machines to strange devices and one wall was lined with shelves.   
Disaster looked at the countless stasis fields with one or more personality components inside which were all placed on the shelves like books in a library. Depending on an individual's still remaining energy level they were either put under a strong stasis or a much lighter field was used and they were combined with others of their kind. Still, even though the multiple component technique was used, stasis fields were running out. Chaos had called him an hour ago and now, after she had given him an idea just why he had to come here, he was in deep thought.   
"You know that we can't mass produce Protogen yet," the Decepticon finally said.   
Chaos nodded. "I know, but if you start now we have a body to fall back upon when those components fail. We can't create conventional bodies because we miss the resources, but Protogen has a different basis. You don't need the usual stuff in such great amounts and if you keep them smaller than the 'normal' size, we can at least store those components there until we find a way to give them Cybertronian bodies." The medic gave him an inquiring look.   
"Well, it is possible. Spike supplied us with many data and we know how to go about it ...."   
"But?"   
He shrugged hesitantly. "It's like creating a whole new race..... Those Protogen forms are closer to a human design than a Cybertronian one."   
Chaos understood. "I see your problem, but right now all that concerns me is that we can save their lives, Disaster!"   
Disaster looked at the components again, then at what had once been Vector Sigma and was now nothing but a glowing ball of ectoplasmic energy. "All right," he finally said. "I've to bring First Aid in on that."   
"No problem. Do you have any bodies ready yet?"   
"No. How much time does the weakest component have?"   
"Well, more time than I first thought. Weeks, even, but we still haven't all the cores outside of the Alpha Trion yet. Some were so badly damaged that we couldn't help them anymore, others show slight damage which might or might not influence their personalities. I have a list of those in the biggest need of stabilizing and right now those are five."   
"Five," Disaster muttered to himself. "Big order." He grinned wryly. "I'll keep you updated. With the wave of injured declining and all more or less calming down, we only have the human patients and the ICU to worry about."   
"Thanks. By the way, if you run into Tas, we could use her help down here."   
"I heard your call," a female voice said and Chaos turned, smiling at her team commander and leader, Catastrophe. "You needed help?"   
"Always do. Let me show you what we need...." The two females went off and left Disaster alone.   
The Decepticon looked at the ectoplasmic body containing the last personality components who had never been born. There were incredibly many and he had no idea how to get the Protogen production going fast enough to accommodate them all. Many could exist in stasis, others might die within seconds after leaving the protective field. Maybe .... maybe he could do both, supply the emergency bodies and also invent a field or two that shielded the vulnerable components, the core units. Yes, maybe.....   
Disaster turned and slowly left the room. Optimus Prime had made the whole affair a priority order. He knew why. Lives were at stake, young and unborn lives......

* * *

"This just came in," Smokescreen said quietly as he handed Ultra Magnus a file.   
The commander scanned it and his blue optics flashed in pain. "Omega Supreme?" he only asked.   
"Cyclonus and Jazz found him. We are currently bringing in his remains." Smokescreen was visibly shaken.   
"Does Rodimus know?" Magnus wanted to know.   
The other Autobot shook his head. "Not yet."   
"Let's wait till after the ceremony," Magnus decided. "Even then it will be too early for yet another casualty list." With that he left he room.   
"I hate this work," Smokescreen muttered.   
"Who doesn't?" Powerglide asked softly. "I hate the list and I hate the reports coming in. We all do."   
Smokescreen sighed and went back to his work. Yes, they all did.....

* * *

The funeral was far from small and private, not with so many attendees and mourners. And it was the first of its kind on Cybertron. The Cybertronians were not accustomed to human burial ceremonies, except for those who had been either associated with humans for a long time now or had taken part at them before. Midnight was both. He had buried friends before, human friends, and he had been partnered to a human for most of his waking life. The last human friend he had buried had been Michael de la Croix, Interface partner to Archer. He had mourned him and he still did. Many humans had died here on Cybertron and though some had been returned to Earth by their families, to be buried on home soil, some had expressed their wishes to remain here on Cybertron even in death. Optimus Prime had agreed to honor their wishes when they had been placed before the final stage of the war.   
"We are gathered here today to say good-bye to husbands and wives, children and grand-children, friends and relatives," the human holding the service said. She was a former EDC Colonel and she had volunteered to hold this service.   
As she went on about each individual, about their lives and contribution, Midnight felt a familiar sadness sweep over him. He had know many of those here and though he was secretly glad that none of the Interfaces had died, he also grieved deeply. His optics caught sight of other mourners. Rodimus was among them, Shanygn at his side, her hand resting on his leg. Optimus Prime stood beside, a tower of apparent calmness, but his optics told a different story to those who knew him. The Witwickys were beside them. Spike was flanked by his children. They were silent supporters of their father, giving him the strength to go through this while his own wife was dying not far away. A lot of humans had gathered, as well as the Interfaces, all dressed in his or her color of mourning, mostly black.   
I have an appropriate body color, Midnight thought grimly as he listened to the prayers and good-byes and the songs. Right now he looked more gray than black, due to a still healing skin. There were faint white lines, like scars, showing how badly he had been injured, but all of it would disappear completely soon. Midnight had come out of the healing tank yesterday. His link to Steve was still weak and filled with static but at least it was present again. His partner had not left his side and was now standing beside him.   
The bodies would be cremated and then placed in a tomb. Name plates told the individual story of the person in the grave and they would never be forgotten. He let his eyes sweep over the others again, discovering Tracks. The Autobot looked like cut out of stone, his face totally expressionless. He had lost a dear friend as well. Raoul Simone was dead, buried by a caved-in ceiling. Medics had said he had died immediately and not suffered. It did nothing to lessen the pain.   
The service ended and the coffins, each decorated with a flag of the individuals home country, were slowly transported away to be burned. Midnight inhaled deeply, wishing there had been anything else to do for those who had lost their lives. Anything at all!   
But there was nothing.   
"You all right?" someone asked and he looked up. Wild Card stood at his side, looking slightly worried.   
"Yeah, I'm fine. I just hate funerals," he said softly.   
Wild Card nodded. They all did, maybe even more than the Cybertronians. Funerals reminded them of their own mortality, of their links and what would happen if the person in the coffin was an Interface.   
"I heard you wanted to return to Alean," Wild Card said as they walked away.   
Midnight nodded. "We have supplies there that are needed here. Someone has to run the operation and I think I'll volunteer myself." He smiled wryly.   
"Don't you think you are needed here? You are one of the Council....."   
"Yes, I am, but I'm also my own person, Wild Card. Someone has to get going and get the supplies here." Midnight shook his head. "I'd hate to just sit around and give orders. I need to do something and that's just it."   
"I understand." His friend smiled.   
Midnight smiled back.

*

Rodimus watched the people disperse and felt his chest ache in sympathy. He had known so many of the dead as well. Shanygn sent a wave of shared pain and sympathy and then discretely walked away, leaving Optimus and her partner alone. The two leaders walked silently down the street, Rodimus watching the older Autobot, noting fine lines of stress, the disturbed optics, the tense posture. Optimus was far from relaxed and back to normal. Of course, he had been under stress before. Leading their people was always stress and pressure, but he had handled it well and since he and Rodimus shared the burden, things had become much better for both. But Optimus had been assaulted on a totally different level lately and it was cracking his most inner walls, had even once broken through.   
"I heard about Vector Sigma," Rodimus finally said. A new pain flashed through Optimus Prime's optics. "How is Alpha Trion holding up?"   
"Okay so far. He's growing weaker though." Optimus' voice was soft and pained. He had once lost Alpha Trion, though his old mentor and creator had been able to survive inside Vector Sigma as an ectoplasmic entity. Now his life was threatened yet again and there was nothing they could really do.   
"I got a report about what Disaster and First Aid are trying to do. Looks promising."   
Optimus only nodded.   
Rodimus looked around and tried not to see the damage everywhere. It would take years to rebuild all this! At least they had survived.   
"Listen, Op......"   
"I'm fine, Rodimus," Prime interrupted him, his voice firm.   
Rodimus met the equally firm gaze for a long time. "You know where my office is," he finally said quietly.   
Optimus nodded and watched him go. "Yes, I do," he said softly, then continued his way, his steps taking him involuntarily into the South continent area.   
He stopped and looked at the devastation before him.   
It was a long time until he went back to West Central. A very long time.

* * *

Megatron had left med bay against the better advise of Disaster. The Decepticon medic had had no other arguments for his stay than his still rather weak condition. Megatron had growled something unprintable and left nevertheless. Sparks had sighed softly at his manners, but she had been silent throughout their walk through the corridors. He ignored her and she simply trailed him -- as always!   
"Don't you have anything better to do?" he finally growled, glowering at her.   
Sparks wrinkled her forehead in deep thought. "No," she finally decided and flashed him a brilliant smile.   
He glared. "I don't need a baby-sitter!"   
"No, you need a nanny."   
Megatron stopped and grabbed her, lifting her up and dangling her in front of his face. "I can take care of myself! I don't need anyone, cat face! Least of all you!"   
"And Sphere?" she asked calmly.   
He hesitated for a microsecond, then dropped her unceremoniously on the floor. Like all cats, Sparks landed on her feet.   
"You died nearly twice," she said calmly as she continued to follow him. "It took the Constructicons a lot of finesse and talent to keep you alive and you are not helping by running around already."   
"I'm fine!"   
"Complete and utter wossname! You're not!"   
"Shut up, fuzz ball!"   
"Up yours!"   
Megatron whirled around again, his optics bright red fires. His gun aimed at the small, black cat, who simply looked at him. This was a regularly recurring occasion, happening at least twice a week, it not once a day. Sparks was hell-bent on hanging around and he couldn't get rid of her by whatever means. In the past he had tried everything, from lockign her out -- she had broken in again -- to luring her onto a freighter and watching the ship leave -- she had mysteriously reappeared by the end of the day. He sometimes wondered if she could teleport but that was too crazy. Sparks was a normal robot, with a few abnormal quirks and a very unique ability to survive in Megatron's presence while insulting him. The other Decepticons had a lot of respect when it came to this small, furry and very young Cybertronian, and it was agreed that the only thing that might stop Sparks for a short time was a direkt meteorite strike.   
An orange glow started in the cannon and Sparks jumped out of the way as a blast tore into the floor where she had just been.   
Then she became aware of the smell.   
The smell of ...... singed fur?   
She looked at herself and then raised her tail. Its formerly white tip was burned off, smoke curling in fine tendrils into the air. Her emerald eyes fixed on Megatron, who gave her an astonished look.   
This had never happened before! He had fired at his constant Pain In The Diodes dozens of times before. He had never even come close to hitting her!   
Sparks grabbed her tail in one paw and glared at him. "You singed my tail!" she exclaimed, waving the evidence from side to side.   
"I ...." Megatron shook his head, too surprised to think of anything.   
"You bloody singed my bloody tail! Wossname!" The small cat stared at him and he found the stare unnerving. Sparks finally turned and stalked down the corridor, singed tail high up in the air, a haughty expression on her face.   
Megatron watched her go. He had actually hit her! He had hit her. As much as it would have amused him in the past, he was well past that emotion concerning Sparks. He felt sorry about it and slightly worried. What if he had hit more than her tail? What if he had hit and killed her? Sparks had saved his life down under the ruins of South Port! And not for the first time. She had once saved him from as sniper attack that would surely have killed him. She had nearly died then.   
And she continued to annoy him.   
The Decepticon leader shook his head and walked on, deep in thought, knowing that his private problems would have to take a step back. There was a lot that needed his attention right now; a lot that he had not been able to take care of because of his injuries. Sparks was right, he knew, he was still not in the best of conditions, but there was time for rest later. Now he needed to get back into the game and play.   
He opened a channel. "Cyclonus, report to my office in ten standard missions for a debriefing."   
"Yes, mighty Megatron," a slightly stunned Cyclonus answered.   
Megatron smiled.   
Back in business.

* * *

Optimus Prime was tired beyond words and his head throbbed with a distant pain. After the funeral he had retreated into the relative safety of his private room in West Central, trying to shut out ..... reality. It didn't work. Too much had occurred and too much was still occurring. Everything had happened so fast...... And now Cybertron lay in ruins and the death rate was still rising. He had seen the list and he could recite it without looking twice.   
Too many.   
Humans and Cybertronians alike.   
Optimus sighed. Though he was tired, he knew he couldn't go into recharge. It was impossible. Images of the past haunted him and they all involved death and destruction. Since he had been born he had known nothing but war and the war had taken everything he had loved from him. Most of all.... Ariel -- Aleeta..... He clenched his hands into fists and buried his face in them. All those memories. Good ones, bad ones, happy ones, sad ones....... Memories of his past life as Orion Pax, his reincarnation as Optimus Prime, leaving Aleeta back on Cybertron, thinking her dead, finding her again, losing her -- forever. The memories had never left him and the pain had never really died. It was omnipresent and ready to swamp him if he let his guard down. Now his guard was down. He had thought he had dealt with this, had said his final good-bye, but the pressure and the near-walk over the edge into total insanity had brought it all back. He and Aleeta had been one, linked by body and mind, the first of a new generation of Autobots created by Alpha Trion.   
She had died.   
The world around him had died.   
And now Rikkochet.   
He had heard of it by accident and he had been stunned and frozen by the news of her injuries. She was in a very bad condition and the Venerakkin had her under close guard, keeping her safe inside their own little medical facilities. Optimus had demanded they let him see her, but he had run into walls. Walls with guns and grim expressions.   
Until today, until the day he had been told that Rikkochet might die, he had never really realized that he had developed feelings for her. It felt so sacrilegious! He and Aleeta had been together since they had been Ariel and Orion Pax! They had shared a bond then and the bond had only grown stronger. Aleeta had died so long ago, killed by a Decepticon renegade on Cybertron, and he had been alone since then. He had shied away from a possible relationship because part of him still hung on to Aleeta's vivid memory. He had slowly allowed himself to open up and let others touch him. Rikkochet had touched him deeply, but because she was Venerakkin and because the relationships with the Venerakkin had been growing worse instead of better, as well as because of the war, he had never pursued this all that deeply.   
Now she might die on him as well.   
Optimus moaned softly. He remembered leaving Cybertron, looking for  a way to stop the war. It had resulted in an innocent planet getting dragged into their war, its resources plundered, its beauty raped and its people dying in the name of the cause. A new war had involved Earth, Nebulos and many other worlds, had destroyed lives once more and had now nearly obliterated Cybertron.   
When would it ever end?   
A shiver passed through him.   
Maybe never. At least for him. Memories of the Tji touch lingered on and he just couldn't shake this feeling. Someone had read his mind, had used it against him, had inflicted pain on a level no one else had ever entered, and the wounds didn't heal.   
I have to get over it, he thought fiercely. I'm the Autobot leader! I can't give in to this!   
But he already had. And without Rodimus he would gave severed all links with sanity forever.   
He heard steps and flinched, trying to pull himself together, to get his composure back. As he saw who entered the conference room he knew it was a vain attempt.   
"Hello."   
"Melissa," he said, his voice a bit unstable.   
The small human female looked at him, her dark brown eyes meeting his troubled blue optics. He hated her for this look. He knew what she was and he knew she could probably read him like an open book, not because she was talented empathically but because he was most likely projecting like hell. Mel might not be able to pick up specific emotions when things were running normal and she never actively 'read' people, but after this catastrophe.... and since his emotional condition was catastrophic at best .....   
"Can I help you?" he asked.   
Melissa approached slowly. "Maybe. And maybe I can help you."   
"I don't think so."   
"You haven't even tried...."   
"I said no."   
"Optimus," Melissa tried again. "Something happened ...."   
"And I'm fine," he finished the sentence forcefully.   
"Maybe, maybe not."   
He shook his head and rose from his sitting position. "I need to go," he said and almost fled from the room.

Mel shook her head as she watched him go. That hadn't gone well and from the incredible amount of projection battering her shields she knew he was deeply troubled. She hated to think what it might do..... He had lost it once. What kept him from slipping back?   
Rage.   
Pain.   
Madness.   
That was what assaulted her -- and him. How could she help him? And would he let her?   
The young woman decided to take her chances and watch Prime as much as he let her.

* * *

Sparks sat on the window sill in one of the many conference rooms, staring out of the window but not seeing anything. She reflected on what had happened, how she had behaved and what had come out of it. Megatron had been no different than any other day, except that he might have been more edgy because of nearly dying twice and angry because he was still so weak. The war and everything that had happened before and throughout it had left its marks on him and right now he was trying to cope with it all by himself. That he had shot her had been one of the normal ways he used to deal with anger, fury and stress. The computer screens and the walls in his office could tell the story.   
And now so could she.   
Looking at the singed tip of her tail Sparks sighed softly. Had he really hit her? No. He had nicked her. The blast had barely even burned to the skin. She had just been mad at him for .... for what? Being stubborn? Well, he was Megatron and that name went along with descriptions like stubborn, temperamental, infuriating, enraged and many more. That was just him. She had come to know him quite well in all the time she had been with him. She had seen him in different moods and had seen his temper shift. She knew more than Megatron was comfortable with.   
But he had never hurt her or even tried. At least no serious attempt had been made.   
And had this been serious?   
Sparks sighed deeply and jumped down from the window sill, leaving the room. She ignored everyone as she silently walked down the corridors, still deep in thought.

* * *

He was back home. Midnight looked around the rocky and snow covered landscape, feeling slightly elated and a wave of happiness coursed through him. He had missed Alean. Cybertron was his place of birth but Alean was his home. It was the home of all Sentinels and though they had not always lived here, he knew that everyone regarded this rocky planet as their world. There was no intelligent life here. The planet was still in the early stages of development, featuring a wide variety of fauna and flora, as well as an atmosphere breathable for humans.   
"Welcome home," Spellbinder greeted him.   
Midnight smiled. "It's good to be back. Did you get my messages?"   
The other Sentinel nodded. "We are currently getting the first shipments to Cybertron ready."   
"Good." He walked into the underground base. The main entrance was inside a deep canyon and very well hidden from prying eyes. A bit of snow drifted after him.   
The base was dark and silent. Most of the Sentinels were on Cybertron, helping with the repairs or organizing ships to haul in the supplies from Alean.   
"Let's get a link to West Central, up and running. I need a list of all supplies as well."   
"You got it." Spellbinder walked off into the depth of the base.   
"It's really good to be back," Steve said softly.   
Midnight nodded. "Yes, but somehow it feels different."   
"We feel different."   
The Sentinel met his partner's calm eyes. "Yes, we have changed. War changes a lot....."   
"But we survived and we can rebuild what has been destroyed," Steve said.   
"But we can't bring back the dead." Midnight felt the distant pain again as he walked down the corridor.   
Labyrinth.   
Winterhawk.   
Monitor.   
Compared to the Cybertronians who had died these were few, but there were a lot less Sentinel around than Autobots and Decepticons. And the Seekers had lost two of their own as well, which made the loss five individuals who could never be replaced. New Cybertronians could be born to, as harsh as it sounded, replace the dead, but Sentinels had no way to reproduce. Their body shells had been created by Vector Sigma which had been preprogrammed by the Veneran. Vector Sigma was dead and the Veneran were no longer the ones they had been, and somehow Midnight would think of it to as an abomination if they were suddenly starting to produce new Sentinels. Maybe there were still some others of them out there. He knew that not all had been killed and not all had followed Thon Roque. There was always hope.....   
With a sigh he sank down in the chair behind his desk and activated his computer. Steve settled down as well, with nothing special to do yet except for supporting his partner -- and the support would be needed.   
"Let's get going," Midnight said aloud and accessed his files.

* * *

Melissa Witwicky squeezed her eyes shut and forcefully banished the strange emotions assaulting her. They had been coming in full force for over ten minutes now, leaving her shaking and breaking out in cold sweat. She didn't know how to really stop them. Her shields were barely holding up and whenever she thought they were gone, they came back, worse than before. Maybe this experiment had not been such a good idea. Maybe she should not have tried this..... Contacting a mind in pain, even from a distance, wasn't really recommended. But she had had to try. With trembling hands she picked up her cup of coffee, wrapping her fingers around the warm mug, breathing deeply. She had never had any real training for her abilities and only Kayla had given her help concerning the empathy thingy she was able to do. She had taught herself and until now she had always fared pretty good.   
But until now she had never had such an extreme case!   
Mel continued her breathing exercises, trying to analyze what she had felt.   
Agony.   
Rage.   
Pain.   
Enemy!   
She closed her eyes and turned the received emotions over and over in her head. Something had touched Optimus and it had changed him. She knew he had been attacked by a Tji and Sparks had given her the complete story of what had happened down in the ruins of South Port. Optimus was reacting to Tji presence in the worst possible way, but she had still no real clue why! The Autobot leader had been hurt, wounded, tortured and even killed by Decepticons but he had never reacted like this to the sight of his former enemies. He treated them normally, he had even accepted the alliance and there had never been any moves against Megatron. Why the extreme reaction to the Tji?   
"Telepathic wounds," someone suddenly said and she looked up.   
A tall, dark blue robot towered over her, his red visor meeting her tired brown eyes emotionlessly. At least from the outside. Melissa had never had the chance to truly pick anything up from him and since she had vowed to herself never to actively read someone, to spy, she had never attempted a remote scan. She knew Soundwave was not as emotionless as he always appeared but she also had no clue as to what was going on behind this expressionless facade.   
"Say what?" she asked.   
"His mind was touched and wounded telepathically."   
"You are talking about Optimus?"   
Soundwave didn't answer, simply continued looking at her. Melissa sighed.   
"Are you reading my mind?"   
Soundwave was a robot telepath, something that had fascinated her right from the beginning, but since he kept to himself and seldom encouraged questions, she had not asked.   
"In a way."   
"I thought it was against whatever ethics you hold."   
Soundwave shot her a look that Mel interpreted as surprise.   
"I did not delve into the depths of your mind," he then said calmly. "I merely picked up random surface thoughts."   
"Whatever. So you are saying the Tji wounded his mind and he can't heal properly?" Mel asked.   
"Yes."   
"Is there a way to help him?"   
"Yes."   
She sighed with exasperation. "Which would be?"   
"A telepathic healing."   
Mel stared at him. "But that might destroy more than it does good!" she exclaimed. "I know Optimus was never one to feel quite at ease with telepathy and I know he has trouble with the concept of someone touching his mind. Even the brief, forced Interface was too much! If his mind has been harmed by a telepathic invasion, what do you think he'll do if he gets a telepathic healing, huh?"   
Soundwave continued looking expressionlessly at her. "It is the only way," he then said.   
Melissa rubbed her temples. "Maybe."   
"It is."   
She shot him a queer look. "Okay, okay, but how do you tell him that the only way to help him is to invade his already wounded mind?"   
There was no answer forthcoming and she sighed.   
"That's what I thought....."   
They had a problem.

* * *

The shuttle landed at West Central Port and only one passenger disembarked. It was a woman, tall, slender, maybe in her mid-thirties. She had a pale complexion and straight, copper-colored hair. Green eyes looked around and took in the busy bustling all around. She was dressed in a gray. The woman was expected by a man in his early forties.   
Daniel Witwicky looked the new-arrival up and down as she stood in the customs area and got herself checked in. She was attractive and radiated intelligence, but her face had a hard streak. Her features were distinctive, mainly because of the aquiline nose and the high cheek-bones. Her gaze swept around, her eyes like search lights, and when she discovered Daniel, she walked straight toward him. Her steps were measured, brisk and kind of military. They had a lock-step quality.   
"Ambassador Daniel Witwicky? My name is Catherine Lee Russell. I am the Evaluator." Her voice was crisp and clear, just like her whole persona.   
"Welcome to Cybertron, Ms. Russell." Daniel smiled politely, though he had decided he didn't like Russell at all, and he liked what she represented even less.   
Earth had given the assigned time window to the funeral ship and the burial had taken place as planned. What hadn't been planned were the guards. Honorary guards, as it had been explained to him when he had protested. Daniel had been on Earth as well as a representative of peace, but what he had had to witness had nearly been too much. The mourners had been monitored at every step. They had been walked to and from the grave yard and church and they had been under constant surveillance, not allowed to contact anyone or leave the assigned hotel. Many had expressed their outrage, even louder than the time Rodimus had told them what would expect them. Maybe they had thought it was simply an over-reaction. Now they had faced reality. Cold and hard reality.   
Daniel felt sick at the behavior of his own kind and he knew how Rodimus had felt when he had talked to the officials. He had been present when a second conference had taken place, right after the humans had been returned to Cybertron. None of them were allowed to stay on Earth, for whatever reasons. The reasons presented sounded vague and false. Earth had graciously allowed Cybertron 'to redeem itself'. Rodimus had been hard pressed not to shoot the screen at those words, Daniel had been able to tell.   
"Arrogant bastards!" the young commander had breathed, optics aglow with fury.   
Well, he had agreed to it and the terms were that an Evaluator would come to Cybertron and take a look around, monitor their actions, send reports back to Earth. They wanted to know what was going on.   
"Now they want to know what's going on!" Rodimus had fumed. "Before this all happened it had been enough to listen to rumors and lies and leave us hanging!"   
Yes, Earth had left Cybertron to fend for itself, too afraid of the consequences if they got involved. Optimus Prime had argued with the leaders for a long time and not gotten the point through. In the end there had been no other choice than to do as Earth had asked and leave.   
And now there was Catherine Lee Russell.   
"I will show you to your quarters," Daniel told her as he guided her through the space port toward the main buildings. "If you need anything, I'm your liaison."   
"Thank you, ambassador, but except for my office and access to the facilities as well as the computer system I don't need anything." Russell looked straight ahead as she settled down in the transport tube.   
Daniel tried not to think of her as arrogant and cold, but he words simply popped up in his mind.   
"You have direct lines to the Council members and Arcee, your Autobot liaison," he went on, his voice calm and still pleasant. He had had enough training throughout his years on Earth as an ambassador. "In case of any problems ...."   
Her cold green eyes met his. "I expect there to be no problems."   
Daniel didn't even twitch a muscle. "Who doesn't?" he smiled.   
The transport stopped and they got out. The walk to Russell's quarters was conducted in silence. Daniel made her at home with the different functions in the Cybertronian-sized room and then left her, glad to get some warmer air around him.

Catherine Lee Russell looked around the too large and somehow too alien room. Everything was human sized but also set so Cybertronians could be accommodated. Everything looked cold and clean and impersonal. She had brought few things along and nothing would cheer this room up.   
She set down her briefcase. Her baggage had been brought in directly from the space port. She would need to unpack. Sitting down on her bed Russell closed her eyes and her features suddenly relaxed into an expression of misery and pain.   
"Damnit!" she whispered softly, barely loud enough to be heard.

* * *

The two silent figures stood together. Snow was coming down from the dark sky, settling on the dark-colored duo, forming a thin crust of ice. It had started to get worse since they had gotten here and following the grey and cloudy sky it wouldn't get any better soon. This time of the year was known to have occasional rain showers, but the rain had taken on a steady notion, turning into snowy flakes now and then, and the sky showed no sign of clearing up. It all fit the general mood.   
Tornado didn't know how to feel except sad. He had lost two friends and he knew it could have been more. Midnight had lost three of his team and he had buried too many of them lately. Tornado knew that Midnight was taking every loss very hard and very personal and he was just glad that none of those who had died had been Interfaced. It was a cruel and cold thought for those who had no idea about Interfacing, but a reasonable one for the rest.   
The dead body shells -- or their remnants -- had been utterly destroyed. It was part of an old ritual or tradition, coming from a time when the enemy had used the body shells to gain knowledge about the inner workings of the Sentinels. Tornado couldn't understand a burial anyway, though since he had Interfaced he had come to more knowledge about humans and humanoids, as well as their traditions. The remains of the shells, the ashes and debris, had been brought here. It was a planet Tornado had discovered and told Midnight about. The younger Sentinel had agreed and the two leaders had come here.   
No mourners.   
No honor guard.   
Just them. It was appropriate.   
"Mid?" the Seeker now asked.   
Midnight nodded and turned. "Let's go," he said, voice rough. Then he transformed and shot off into the sky.   
Tornado followed a second later, leaving the dead behind, hoping his memories would

* * *

Disaster surveyed his work. Two new Protogen forms and both about ready, though a few adjustments would be needed. Chaos had given him a report about their progress but it didn't look too good. She had been able to stabilize Alpha Trion a bit, but not enough for him to grow stronger. The ectoplasmic entity was channeling all energy he received into the unborn lives inside him, the personality components.   
"I hope this works," Disaster muttered.   
"It will. You are good at what you do," First Aid said and a smile reflected in his visor.   
"How are those containment fields coming along?" the Decepticon asked.   
"We are done. Since there are too many components to stabilize in one field I generated two." First Aid lead him over into his work area and activated his computer screen. A large globe appeared, a wire-model. "I leaned toward the design Vector Sigma had, as you can see."   
Disaster nodded and read the accompanying data. Inside the globe was room for hundreds of components and it would be needed. They had only a rough estimate of how many unborn had been in Vector Sigma but it were many! The globe was a small containment unit, self-reliant in power, and shielded. It would keep the components save until bodies were found to house them. Just like in old times.   
"Are they ready?"   
"I need some more time to test and maybe recalibrate them." First Aid shut off the image. "How many unstable components do we have now?"   
"Five. We can get the worst cases transferred into the two Protogen forms, but the other three....." Disaster shook his head. "They will go down within the next five weeks. I can construct another two bodies, but I might not be fast enough. Getting Protogen up and running is still tricky."   
"I know. We can refine the whole process but we need time."   
Disaster nodded. "Right now we have to work with what we have. Concentrate on one of the containment units. We need one as fast as we can."   
First Aid nodded. "Will do. Keep me updated."   
"Of course." He left the med bay lab and went back to where the Protogen forms lay.

* * *

Skywolf nodded, a pleased expression on his face. "You look fine," he told his patient.   
"And what about my readings?" Sphere teased.   
The old Sentinel chuckled. "Even better," he answered. "No, seriously, your readings are perfect and your systems show no sign of strain. Any ill feelings lately?"   
"No. The Host space locks everything inside off from my other circuits." She slid down from the examination table.   
"Any contact to Ranora since you joined?"   
"No. She is sleeping. I can feel her and I can feel she is regenerating, but she isn't as active as, for instance, an Interface. I can feel her allright, but there is no conscious communication. I can receive her dreams like small whispers from time to time." Sphere's optics darkened a bit. "She is afraid, Wolf. She is afraid of what will happen to her when everything quiets down."   
Skywolf met the troubled optics with silent support. "With you as a Host and guardian, she is safe," he told her.   
Sphere smiled. "Thank you," she said quietly.   
"I mean it. And I know that Rodimus supports your decision, though I think you overran him a bit."   
She laughed softly. "In a way yes. I overran a lot of people."   
And only a few knew about this anyway. The guards had been sworn in to silence and they wouldn't tell. Beside them, only Rodimus, Starscream and Skywolf knew. Rodimus would keep it this way for now.   
Skywolf laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently. "You just hang in there. You might carry one of the enemy, but there is always a difference between enemy and enemy. Remember Jaimaa?" Sphere nodded. "Well, she was Tji and she and Twilight were accepted. In time so will Ranora."   
Sphere nodded and smiled again. She would help this process, Skywolf knew, and she would fight. He watched her leave, wishing her the best.

* * *

Rodimus Prime looked at the small human in front of him, digesting what he had heard. Somehow he had already known part of what she had told him, especially about the wounds inside his friend's mind.   
"You scanned him?" he now asked.   
"Not really," she answered, looking a bit caught. "I felt his emotions waving over to me even without actively listening to them. Rodimus, this is serious. Very serious. I tried to read more later, true, and it gave me a headache." She sighed. "And Soundwave says the only way to help him is a telepathic healing."   
"Soundwave?" Rodimus echoed.   
Mel nodded and smiled dimly. "He felt it as well, I think."   
Rodimus shook his head in disbelief. The Decepticon communications specialist had felt it?! Then it had to project quite strongly. Soundwave didn't scan actively, he knew that as a fact. He was telepathic but he didn't read everybody's mind, only when ordered by a superior.   
"What do you want to do with this telepathic healing?" he then asked.   
"Well, the mind attack by the Tji, however short it was, did more damage than we can ever imagine. The mind is a very fragile thing and attacking it like the Tji did tore a lot apart. A mind can heal but sometimes it needs help." Melissa sighed. "But to help we need to go in there again and help."   
Rodimus saw the problem. "You need to go in the same way the Tji has and it might worsen everything before it gets better," he said softly.   
Mel only nodded. "And it can't be me. I'm only a simple empath."   
"Soundwave," was the toneless statement.   
She nodded again.   
"We can't do this to him!" Rodimus shook his head.   
"We might have to if this doesn't get better. He will continue to suffer endlessly, slowly breaking down, if we don't. He nearly walked over the edge once and if this continues, he will walk again and stay on the other side this time." Serious brown eyes met his optics.   
Rodimus rubbed his forehead. How he hated problems. Especially the ones he didn't see a solution to lurking around the corner.

* * *

Things had quieted down a little and Sphere could breathe more easily now. She and Ranora had grown used to each other and she barely felt the Tji anymore. Ranora was still regenerating, trying to come back to her old self and strength and Rodimus had already requested to see them both the moment Ranora was back. Starscream hung around sometimes, checking on her in his not-at-least subtle way. She felt warmed by his worry and care and she knew he tried to make up for the time he had abandoned her. Most of the time he was in the doorway chamber, helping Nightmare and Raven.   
 Megatron was out of sickbay and running his usual bad temper and Sphere simply watched him with a fine smile on her lips. They had developed a stronger relationship, but Megatron had not made the final step yet. She knew he was careful, mainly because he didn't want to scare her off. Well, if he didn't take another step in this relationship soon, she'd take it for him.   
Approaching his quarters she noticed Sparks saunter down the corridor. The cat became aware of her, smiled and walked on. Sphere smiled as well.   
She knocked and then entered.   
Megatron was sitting in his chair, scowling at the computer screen. He didn't even look up when she approached.   
"Don't make the screen crack. You nearly have you computer screen limit for this month," she joked.   
His head jerked up and he glared at her for a full second before shutting down the computer with a snarl. "What do you want?" he asked darkly.   
"Check on you. Since you avoid med bay like the plague...."   
"I'm fine!" he told her with a hiss.   
Sphere leaned forward. "You nearly died while Hook operated on you, my friend. That was two days ago. You left med bay, you refuse to check in and you refuse to get medication to help your strained systems."   
He glared at her. "I'm fine!" he growled.   
"You are not!"   
He glared more.   
"You want your medical record?" Sphere asked, voice low.   
The glare intensified by several degrees. Sphere met the bright red optics with her calm, emerald ones.   
"We can continue this the whole day," she said conversationally. "I don't mind."   
Megatron gave a low, evil hiss and rose, walking around the desk, facing her. He was taller than her and also a lot stronger looking, but she made it up with a strong personality and her calmness. She knew that any of his troops would have already cowered and fled in a hurry, but she refused to bow down. He needed help and if the prophet didn't come to the mountain.....   
"Sit," she simply said, her voice never commanding. It was level and neutral.   
Megatron complied and she started her examination.   
"What happened between you and Sparks?" Sphere asked after some time.   
He tensed and continued staring at nothing specific. "Nothing," he finally growled.   
"I see. And because nothing specific happened she's skulking around like the most miserable creature I know. What happened?" she repeated her last question.   
Megatron continued to stare. He knew Sphere wouldn't use this information in any way other than to help and that was what he was afraid of. But still, he found that a part of him was willing to let her help. He had hurt, physically hurt!, Sparks and he had not intended to do it either. This was just a game for the two of them and what had happened had been .... an accident!   
"I shot her," he finally muttered.   
Sphere stopped her work and looked at her patient. "Shot?"   
His head snapped around and he glared at her, daring to start her accusations. "Yes, shot! She was in the way and I hit her tail! Satisfied?"   
Sphere tilted her head. "No."   
His glare intensified.   
"You always fight, that's the nature of the two of you. You hit her because of some accident, maybe because she was inattentive for a microsecond, maybe because of other reasons."   
"I could have killed her!" he hissed.   
Sphere smiled. "Yes, you could, but you didn't. Now she is miserable because of what happened and you are stubborn!"   
Megatron erupted from his sitting position and stared down at the smaller female robot. "Watch your tongue!"   
She met his angry optics calmly. Like Sparks she had never shown fear of him, which irritated him like nothing else. Everyone of his troops cowered before his anger and hoped he wouldn't exercise some anger on them, but those two females drove him crazy!   
"I will not. You two are friends...." Megatron gave a snort of humorless laughter, but Sphere continued, ".... and you are both pig-headed and proud. You made a mistake and she made a mistake...."   
"I didn't make a mistake!"   
Her emerald optics glowed darkly. "Of course not. Mighty Megatron doesn't make mistakes." She gathered her medical equipment. "You better get back into the real world. Somehow I think dying twice on the repair table did something to your brain unit!"   
Megatron stared at her, uncomfortably reminded of a time when his brain unit had been in disorder for too long .... when he had been Galvatron.   
"Try and think for a moment!" Sphere went on. "And when you get your cerebral functions back together, go and talk to her!" She snapped the small bag shut and turned to go.   
He watched her leave his office, slightly stunned.

* * *

Med bay was silent. It was a strange calmness, a false quiet, something fragile and rare that could be destroyed within a microsecond when the next wave of injured was brought in. The onslaught of people in need, of people injured, had been immense in the last week and everyone was at the limit of their abilities to perform. Even shifts had not solved these problems and it was a treasured time when no one was in immediate need of anything. Nurses made their rounds, doctors checked on patients or performed surgery on those who had been given first aid treatment and told to wait. It was an almost normal run now.   
The man sitting in the ICU area didn't care whether there were people running and screaming outside or if there was no one at all. All he cared about was the severely injured and dying woman in the bed. Spike Witwicky had not left his wife's side since she had been brought here, except for the funeral. The funeral had shown him quite clearly what would await him. He didn't need to eat and sleep as regularly as a human and he didn't have bodily urges that needed to be looked after. Protogen had strange advantages.   
Carly had made her last will and testament a long time ago and he knew her last wishes. He would honor them. Their children had been informed of their mother's condition and both Daniel and Melissa knew what to expect. Carly was dying; there was no help. Her injuries had been too grave. Kyle had had to hook her up to a respirator because her lung functions had failed and now a white tube was running down her throat into her lungs, helping her breathe, giving her a few more days.   
She had not woken since the accident and Spike was glad about it. As much as he would have wanted to see her beautiful blue eyes again, as much as he wanted her to hear his words, he also knew he didn't want her to die knowing what had happened to her.   
He had no idea how long he had sat at her side when it finally happened.   
First there were respiratory problems. Her breathing grew labored, then faltered, then failed.   
A first alarm went off.   
Her heart continued to beat, drawing on the last particles of oxygen left in her blood, then faltered as well, then went into arrest.   
A second alarm followed the first. The medical personnel, already on the way, pounded into the room with a crash cart, but came to an abrupt stop at the sight. Dr. Kyle Scott was with them and he knew instantly that there was nothing they would and should do. As much as he followed the medic's oath that all life is sacred, he knew that this life was no longer here. Bringing the body back would help no one, least of all the man holding Carly's hand now. He gestured at the crash team to leave and they did.   
Kyle stepped beside his long-time friend, silent and supportive as Spike said his last good-bye to his wife. The former ambassador felt a deep pain inside his chest even though he knew there was nothing physically wrong with him. But he had all his emotions and they were working inside him now. For a second he wished he could cry, but he had no tears. This function had not been added. He carefully held the limp hand of his wife, trying to look past all the bandages and bruises and cuts, and he saw the woman he had loved and married, the mother of two children and grandmother of one. He saw her beauty and her liveliness, someone who had had incredible strength, who had always supported him, who had helped through good and bad times.   
"I love you," he whispered and bent forward, kissing the pale face gently.   
Then he let go of her hand, placing it gently on her chest, feeling a tremor pass through him. There were a lot of ways to show grief and tears were not available. His body expressed it through small spasms.   
Kyle walked over to the monitor and machines and switched them off, one after another. Spike watched him, feeling part of him die, a chapter of his life close, something beautiful and gentle pass into memory.   
Gone forever.   
"I will miss you."   
Then he turned and left, unable to stay a minute longer.

*

Further down in the large medical facility Disaster was unaware of the personal tragedy that had just taken place. He was absorbed in his own project which had reached critical point. Placing the glowing personality component on the tray at his side he connected it to the spark unit inside the Protogen form. He did the same with the second Protogen body.   
"Now let's hope this works," he whispered as he opened the connections.   
There was no sound, no sizzling and no flashy lights. The sparks simply gained in color, then started to pulse. The slender robots' optics started to glow and then one set lit up in red, the others in green. Read-outs increased and the energon levels climbed to normal. The first robot's hands twitched and then curled into a fist. His head turned and he looked at the Decepticon.   
"Who.... are you? Who am I?" it whispered.   
"My name is Disaster," the Decepticon introduced himself and helped the smaller Protogen robot up into a sitting position. "You know your name."   
The robot looked at himself and frowned. "Domino," he then muttered.   
"Welcome aboard, Domino," Disaster greeted him.   
The second robot sat up, looking around in puzzlement. His green optics locked on the two others. "I'm Volta," he said slowly.   
"Welcome, Volta. This is Domino and I'm Disaster. I'll tell you both all about what you can expect here, but first I want to run some checks on your systems," the medic told both.   
"Uh, okay."   
Volta only shrugged.   
Disaster looked up and discovered First Aid standing in the doorway. He smiled triumphantly at him. It worked! The Autobot medic smiled in return, which was nothing but a flash on his visor.

* * *

Melissa Witwicky felt empty and dead. Part of that feeling came from too much work, from too much coffee and too little sleep. But she would have been able to handle all of this .... and then the news had come in. It had hit her like a lead brick into the face. She had been unable to do much. She had seen her father's face; she remembered seeing it. She remembered Daniel touching her arm, hugging her, needing the reassurance as much as she did. She remembered being calm and composed, but right now, this was all like a dream. Now, in her quarters, reality finally got through the haze of an overworked mind and a drugged body.   
Mel had curled up the couch of her living room, her mind awhirl, her face stained with tears, crying soundlessly for hours. Bat had been with her, his head in her lap, humming softly as she let her grief reign freely. He had sat nothing, simply sat with her. She was thankful for his warmth. Melissa knew she was not alone in her grief, she knew her family suffered as well, but right now she couldn't face them, couldn't help any of them.   
She had also gone back to work in the vain attempt to take her mind off things, trying to lose herself in it, visiting IceAngel in the Inner Maze and seeing how she was doing. The Inner Maze was miraculously intact.   
It hadn't helped.   
The pain stayed.   
She had found herself talking to her family, had sat through the pain of memory, knowing her father and brother needed her as much as she needed them, but still she couldn't stop grieving. The pressure added through her empathy wasn't helping either.   
And then Mel felt someone very familiar. She looked up and right into the warm, red optics of Nightmare, transformed into his equine mode. The Gatekeeper was her best and closest friend outside her family circle and he was someone who always seemed to understand her.   
"Hi," he said softly.   
"Hi," she whispered, almost choking on the word.   
"I heard," he only said.   
Mel nodded. Nearly every Autobot associated with one Witwicky family member or the other knew.   
"I'm sorry," he added.   
Mel began to shake again. Nightmare lowered his head and she almost instinctively buried her face in his artificial mane, crying softly. She knew it would take a long time to heal this wound. She knew she had friends..... she knew it was possible.   
Bat hummed softly again, a background noise, calming and gentle.

* * *

Rodimus had called a meeting of the Council members, as far as they were available. Optimus was still on leave and Firefall was still missing. No one had even the slightest clue as to her whereabouts. Midnight and Tornado had come back from wherever they had gone and resumed their normal day-to-day activities and Midnight would return to Alean after this was over. Megatron looked as close to blowing as always. Rodimus had no idea what was bothering him now and he had no intent to find out. He might sooner or later nevertheless. The meeting had started with reports about the conditions around the South continent, which were horrifying. The continent was not just devastated, it was totally destroyed through every level. Cybertron was missing one fourth of its former size, though instead of a big hole they had a dozen-level deep wound. Everything was scorched, molten or torn apart. No one in the upper levels had survived it, though there had been few people there at the time because of the evacuation. The lower levels were still closed off from the world and the rescue teams were slowly digging deeper.   
And found too many who had not been able to escape. Few had survival chances.   
Med bay was handling the casualties as well as the injured and though the people there now had a chance to take a few deep breaths, they still had a lot of work to do. The good news had been the Protogen births. They meant hope for the further declining Alpha Trion and the personality cores inside him. First Aid was about ready to try out the first containment unit. Volta and Domino were functioning perfectly, though they were a lot different, starting with their size. They were barely larger than Spike.   
Rodimus felt a new sting inside, remembering his last memo. Carly Witwicky was dead. Shanygn had not even tried to hide her tears and she was currently with the family, trying to help. Everyone did but no one really could. Rodimus understood a lot more about human death and grieving than many and right now he was grieving. He wondered if there was ever an end to the bad news and catastrophes.....   
"Estimated repair time for South continent is several years," Tornado just said and jolted him out of his thoughts. "Supplies are coming in from Alean on a regular basis."   
The Autobots' second-in-command nodded slowly. The supplies were a big help. But with every good news came a bad one, or an inconvenient one.   
"Earth has not yet reconsidered its position," he now told the others. "I've been in and out of tele-conferences with various officials and all I received were the same platitudes. We are getting an evaluator; in fact, she is already here." He cast a look around the Council. "We are to assist her in every way possible. I don't want you to drop your work at her every call, but try and help her a bit. She gets full access to the main files, but not the confidential files."   
"A human evaluator?" Megatron asked, his voice deadly quiet.   
"Yes. I don't like it either, Megatron, but this is the only way Earth might reconsider its position. They are afraid."   
"I'll give them every reason to be scared out of their puny minds!" Megatron hissed, optics flashing bright red. His hand clenched into a fist.   
Rodimus' lips drew into a wry smile. As much as he agreed with the Decepticon leader, he couldn't really side with that.   
"Just try and be friendly," he said instead. "As much as Earth left us to fend on our own, I won't let this alliance go down the drain because of false fear and paranoia, as well as stubbornness. We owe this planet."   
"We owe them nothing!" Megatron said forcefully, face set in a mask.   
"In our war we nearly destroyed this world," Rodimus said calmly. "Both Autobots and Decepticons left their marks -- in a negative way. Maybe you destroyed more than we did in our fights but we are both guilty."   
"And we repaid them! We gave way every time a demand came in, didn't we? We left Earth, we removed Metroplex, we pulled back all forces!" Megatron's temper was controlled, his voice icy. "You Autobots gave the humans deep space flight, trade links, technology far beyond their abilities at the time! You helped and you repaired!"   
Rodimus knew all this. They had given Earth a lot as repayment for what they had destroyed. And they had taken it and kicked them off at the first sign of an impossible confrontation. Not really fair, but then, it was human. He had to respect another race's fear and doubts.   
"Just try," he said quietly, fixing Megatron with cool, blue optics.   
The Decepticon leader glared but didn't challenge him again.   
The rest of the meeting was spent as a discussion about further projects, especially the doorway and the reconstruction. Rodimus steered everything concerning Ranora away from a straight answer as to what should happen to her and where she was kept. There was time for that later -- he hoped much later!   
The Council broke up after three more hours and Rodimus sank back in his chair, exhausted physically and mentally. He was still recovering from his own injuries and the mental pressure was increasing. He still had to meet Catherine Lee Russell. He was not looking forward to it. Sighing, he finally got himself out of the chair and left the conference room. As he walked down the corridor he was greeted by many friends and he simply nodded at them. Closing his office door behind him he ignored the blinking light of his electronic post box and simply stared out of the window.

* * *

Soundwave watched Optimus as he walked past him without even taking notice of the Decepticon. He was tempted to reach out and scan the Autobot leader but he held back. This was not his way. It was an intrusion of privacy. He would need a direct order for it and only Rodimus Prime could give it. And even if he did, which Soundwave doubted, he also needed Optimus Prime's cooperation. He wouldn't force his way in because that was what had caused this in the first place.   
It was a difficult situation.

* * *

The casualty list was still growing, as was the list of those still missing. Megatron frowned at the missing persons list, not sure whether to worried or annoyed. Most of those on the list were Tji victims, known abductees. They had identified ninety percent of the dead body shells, but there will still many missing. And one gave him quite a headache.   
Trypticon.   
The giant Decepticon city transformer had been one of the last abductees and they had never seen him anywhere again, not even in this final battle. This meant he was either destroyed or the Tji had kept him back for some reason. Megatron hated to think of what this reason might be.

* * *

It had been her last will and testament, and Spike had followed it word by word. Carly had made her testament a long time ago and had never changed much about it. Her last wishes had been precise. Some hurt Spike, but he understood and respected them. One had been that she be cremated and not buried either on Earth, Cybertron or any other planet. She had wanted to have her last resting place in a star.   
\-- A place where life and death were so close together.   
And now they were here.   
It had been a short ceremony and only a few had attended -- by request of the widower. Adam 'Spike' Witwicky stood on the bridge of the battle cruiser and watched the screen showing him space. His face was stony and emotionless, but his eyes told the whole story. Melissa was at his side, her hand interlaced with his, giving support; Daniel was at his other side, his wife close by. Of the Cybertronians, only Rodimus and Optimus were with them, the only two Spike had asked and who he had allowed to come. The others had accepted that the grieving human wanted to be alone. They had shown their respect when the shuttle with the family had lifted off to meet with the cruiser.   
It reminded him a lot about another funeral in the family a long, long time ago. It had been on Earth but it had been small and private as well, only he, his wife and Optimus Prime taking part. It had been his father's funeral. Irvine 'Sparkplug' Witwicky had died shortly after his grandson Daniel had been born, a heart attack finishing his dreams of retirement and watching his grand children grow up. It had been a blow no one had expected. No one ever expected death and at the time Spike had been too shocked to really grieve. It had taken him days to let the pain enter, to acknowledge his father was gone. This time the pain had settled in much more quickly. He knew Carly was dead and he missed her already.   
Pulling himself out of this haze of emotional pain, Spike reached out and touched a button. This set into motion a whole lot of actions, all coming down to the bay doors opening and a small, black missile launching. It struck out from the ship and aimed toward the sun. Spike watched it until it was no longer visible, even with Protogen eyes, then turned away. Mel hugged him briefly and he hugged her back; Daniel only touched his father's shoulder. Then Spike left the bridge.   
Optimus Prime's optics reflected his sadness and grief and Melissa felt it radiate from him like a living being. She ignored it because otherwise her 'receptors' would overload, but she also felt the more subtle waves of his old pain, the wounds inside him. Soundwave had been correct. They had to do something, but not now. Now her family needed her and she needed her family.   
Rodimus silently set the course back to Cybertron and the massive ship swung around. He hoped this was the last burial of this kind in a long time.   
A very long time.

In another room, Spike Witwicky watched the star that now was his wife's last resting place grow smaller. It had no name, but in his mind it was named Hope. His hands rested on the sill of the port hole and he knew he was trembling -- his only way to grief. There were no tears. And as they moved further and further away his decision what to do with his future became clearer, more defined. It would change his life and that of his family, but it was necessary. He had to close this book of his past life and start a new one. He was someone else now, had started to change since he had come back from Nebulos. He would follow this path already taken and he would walk it with pride. He had promised Carly that he would never give up, that he would go on and live.   
Yes, Spike would live.   
And Adam Witwicky would die.


End file.
